The Citadel of the Onis
by Yours The Author
Summary: The Author is missing. The only signs she left behind were that she went to the movies with The Artist (they did not) and Gilbert feeling a disturbance (he did). It's up to the Cult of Veneziano to find her, all while trying to make sure the onis are really gone. Can Brittany Davis and The Vet work past their differences for the sake of getting The Author home?
1. Prologue

Oh my lawd, it's a Hetalia fic, ya'll!

So hey I'm back yay. After nearly a year of hiatus from this series, I present to you: the final book in the Cult Series! Hooray!

I've been slowly coming up with plot ideas for this story for a while now, and I've published the prologue to this story on the last day of the decade! I had my little sister The Deviant read this, and she said she liked it, so post it I shall! I hope you enjoy it too. See you at the bottom of the page.

* * *

The Citadel of the Onis

By: Yours The Author

Prologue

She slowly came to. Her forehead was pounding, namely around her eyebrows. The sound of quietly rushing water and the breeze in the trees helped her feel more at ease as she opened her eyes. The canopy of leaves above was a brilliant, almost unnatural green, with golden light peeking through the leaves. It was beautiful... _too _beautiful. She sat up and reached to rub her eyebrows to lower the pain.

"I would not recommend that." She jumped at the voice and looked toward the rushing water. Someone was definitely there, but for the life of her, she couldn't make out what they looked like. They were tall, that much was clear. She stood and walked over to sit next to them.

She stared into her reflection in the bubbling stream. Her hair was still as short as she liked it, though it was considerably more yellow than blonde. Her eyes were big, and forest green instead of being vaguely stuck between brown and green. She was wearing a green suit with black gloves, and had a katana hanging off her belt, along with a small black book in her pocket that she had yet to examine further. And those eyebrows... they weren't always that thick and dark, right? It was silent for a moment, aside from the breeze and water.

"...Why not?" She finally asked. "They're just eyebrows..."

"I suppose you have forgotten what happened when you touched them earlier?"

She flinched, remembering the pain... oh, the _pain_...

They nodded and glanced calmly yet coldly at the young lass. "Brittany Davis..."

Brittany flinched again. "I still don't know how you know my name."

"It is my purpose to know all things of the multiverses."

Brittany looked up at their face. She still couldn't tell what they looked like. "So... we're in an anime now?"

"If that is what you would like to think. It is more complicated than that. You will learn more later, but for now, I must reveal your mission."

"My... mission?"

"Of course, it is not just _your_ mission. You must recruit many more for the cult."

"Hold on a moment—a _cult?"_ Brittany stood quickly. "I am not about to drop everything for some bloody religious hocus pocus!"

"Sit down, Brittany Davis. Let me explain." She slowly sat back down, eyeing them warily. "The cult I am thinking of and the cult you are thinking of are very different cults. You imagine some form of 'religious hocus pocus', but I am speaking of something along the lines of... protectors. Defenders."

"...I'm listening," Brittany said slowly.

"You had better be." Brittany leaned away from them slightly. "You are familiar with the game HetaOni and the anime it is based on." This was a statement, not a question. "You know that the game was never finished, thus leaving the fates of the countries up to the imaginations of those who played it. However, what you do not know is _why_ the game was unfinished."

Brittany frowned. "Wasn't it because the creator of the game lost the files in a natural disaster or something?"

"That is what you were told. In truth, _I_ influenced the game creator, as well as the game's unfinished status, because the fate of the countries had not yet been determined."

"So what you're saying is... _you_ made HetaOni?!" She calmed her giddy nerves before continuing. "What was the purpose of that?"

"Because the events of the game are true, you hyperactive fool." Brittany made an indignant noise. They didn't seem to change their tone or facial expression as they said: "The countries have been experiencing the events of the 'game' for a long time now, though I had originally planned for them to work through the problem in their own time. Now, however, I must properly act."

"Why now?"

"Because it has come to my attention that there are more malicious intents at play."

Brittany raised a large eyebrow. "More malicious then monsters killing people?"

They nodded. "Normally, I let people's choices—including their deaths—come and go as fate commands. Though now it seems that _she_ is trying to attempt something."

"She?"

"The mother of the Onis."

"...They have a mother?" They gave Brittany a side glance. "It's not _that_ stupid of a question!"

"From what I can gather, she has been directly interfering with her children's work of destroying the nations. I believe this is not her first time doing this."

"You mean, she tried to do this in different time loops?"

They shook their head. "She has successfully done this in another dimension."

Brittany stood again. "_My_ dimension?!"

"Don't be so conceited." Brittany huffed and sat back down. "You are already vaguely aware of this dimension. Think of the Hetalia lore."

"It's based on history, there's no lore to—wait..." She thought for a moment. "You don't mean—" They nodded. "But—that's not canon!"

"Is HetaOni canon?"

"...Fair point. So what do I have to do about it?"

"Open your book." Brittany removed the book from her jacket pocket and flipped it open to the table of contents. Things like "basic spells" and "how to send a letter" were listed, some more mundane or stranger sounding than the others. "You will follow the instructions in the book to train other Hetalia fans how to fight the Onis. You will use magic, weapons, strategy, wrecking balls—"

"What was that last one?"

"—And you will free the nations from their death prison. I, meanwhile, will investigate the exact nature of her interference in the dimensions."

Brittany closed the book and looked back up at them. "Why do you care about this 'she' and what she's been doing in other dimensions? Why not help the nations earlier?"

"I do not wish to repeat myself, but it seems I must. I let fate determine the dimensions events, but if you must know... this is personal. I gifted her and her family something that would make their killings easier, since they had been... interesting to watch."

Brittany stood indignantly. "'Interesting to watch'?" she repeated. "Do you find torture and death fun to watch?!"

"Yes."

"...Oh." Brittany sat back down, a hint of nervousness on her face.

"However, the reason I am interfering now is because I believe she is using the gift I gave her to take over all dimensions, thus challenging me. I cannot allow that to happen. If she takes over, all dimensions will be overrun with Onis, and all other species will be lost."

"Why do you care?" Brittany asked. "If they're _so_ entertaining, why not let them take over all dimensions?"

They gestured around them. "Look around, Brittany Davis." She did. The sunrise was slowly changing the sky from pinks and golds to whites and blues. The breeze had calmed slightly. The stream was still bubbling. "It is lovely, is it not? Imagine a series of worlds like this, and then imagine them overrun with monsters and blood. All color, gone. All other life, gone. Would you like such a thing?"

"Of course not!"

"Then you see my point." They gazed up at the sky. "...Green."

"...What?"

"You will send out invitations to many Hetalia fans, though there is one in particular that you must watch for; one with green magic. They will be the key to your victory, and the victories to come. Something of a wild card, if you will. Do you understand?"

"Well... yes, but—"

"Good." They stood up, and Brittany quickly followed suit. "Every instruction you will need is in your book. Just remember this: Italy Veneziano _must _be the leader of the cult. Not you, him. Work that out however you see fit. Good luck." They began to fade away into air.

"W-wait!" Brittany cried. "Who are you? Are you... God?"

They were silent for a moment. "...Some people like to use pseudonyms. Call me... The Acquaintance. Good luck, Brittany Davis. The universes are counting on you." And The Acquaintance faded away.

* * *

Ooh, The Acquaintance is certainly a sassy one, ain't they? Devi said they were more sassy than mean, but I think that's okay. Despite what they say, they're not entirely malicious; they have some rhyme and reason.

Ah, Brittany Davis. I kind of missed writing her, and there's more of her and the others to come. But where is The Author? What's happened to her? For eventual answers to these questions, leave a review, tell me what you thought, and favorite/follow the story! I'll see you next time. Until then!


	2. Being Sneaky

Fun story, I barely slept at all last night. Literally. I was dead awake until at least two in the morning, and woke up around eight. I honestly thought I was going to be awake the whole night. Fun.

I have some free time, so I decided to post this. I hope you like it. See you at the bottom of the page.

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Chapter 1: Being Sneaky

"As nice as it was for The Artist to take The Author back to college, it would have been nice if they said goodbye first." The Mom picked up her purse and searched for the keys to the van. "Honey, I can't find my keys. Can we use yours?"

The Dad rolled his eyes, but had a slight smile on his face. "Sure, dear."

"Do we _have_ to go?" The Gamer whined.

"Yes," The Mom said tightly. "And if you complain, I'm dropping you off in the middle of nowhere."

"Come on, Gamer! It'll be fun to get out of the house," The Deviant said. "Can we get donuts, Mom?"

"Maybe."

"Ew…" The Gamer muttered. "Outside… what's the point?"

"What did your mother say about complaining?" The Dad said with a hint of the deep well of annoyance within him.

"Vet, are you sure you don't want me to stay a little longer to make breakfast for your friends?" The Mom asked.

The Vet had grown her hair out again, and her hair dye made her hair look almost as ginger as The Author's. Author… "It's okay, Mom. We'll probably just grab something to eat an hour into the trip or so."

"Well, okay…" The Mom lingered in the kitchen as The Dad led The Deviant and reluctant Gamer to the door. "Vet, I know you said you had a whole schedule for your road trip with your friends planned, but…"

"Yes, Mom?"

"Could you maybe stop by at The Author's college and check in on her? She hasn't been texting me goodnight like she used to, and I'm starting to get worried. I'd go myself, but with my new job and everything…"

Vet felt a pang in her heart, but forced a smile. "Of course, Mom. She's probably just busy with classes; you know how stressed she gets."

"That's the problem." The Mom kissed Vet's forehead and made her way to the door, where the rest of the family had already gone out to the car. "Have fun, honey!"

"Bye, Mom." The Mom closed the door behind her. Vet sat in the kitchen for a few moments, listening to her family's footsteps fade as they went down the porch stairs. After a bit, she went to the window by the door and peered out into the cul-de-sac. The van drove up the hill and out of sight just as she reached the window. She sighed, adjusting her plain T-shirt and tightening her ponytail.

Returning to the kitchen, she moved some papers around on the table before lifting an envelope to eye level. It was a plain white envelope, with the only indication of who it was meant for being "The Vet" printed in black ink on the flat side. Vet opened the envelope and pulled out the letter within with a wax seal at the bottom. She read aloud quietly:

"Dear 'The Vet',

I know we've had our differences before, but I want you to know that I don't see your sister as a mere conundrum to be examined, but as a human being and a valuable member of our Cult of Veneziano. I was just as concerned as you when you informed me that The Author is missing. I'll bet," Vet muttered.

"Of course, this isn't something you have to go through alone. I've informed the rest of the cult of what happened, and they are ready and willing to help, if you think this is something cult related and not just a standard kidnapping—STANDARD?!" Vet growled. "There is _nothing_ standard about this!" She clenched her eyes shut and took a few deep breaths. After she calmed down, she continued:

"I've organized a time for all of us to be magically teleported to your house that works for everyone: any Sunday at 7:52 AM, within the next two weeks. At the designated time, and if you want our help, you can press the wax seal at the bottom of this letter to activate the magic that will bring us to your location. You'll have to convince your folks to go somewhere out of the way, at least for a few hours. I hope we can be of service.

From, Brittany Davis."

Vet looked around the house, which was easy since the kitchen and family room weren't separated by a wall. "There's no way everyone will fit in here," she groaned. The Cat meowed and rubbed her cheek on Vet's leg. Vet reached down to pet the little tuxedo cat absently. "…Come on, Cat," she said at last. "Let's go reorganize the house."

The next few minutes involved The Vet pushing the chairs and tables in the downstairs open area against the wall, leaving a decent space for people to stand at least a little more comfortably. "It's definitely not enough room, but…" Vet looked at the oven clock. 7:51 AM, on the second Sunday allotted. "It'll have to do," she decided.

She couldn't have done it on the first Sunday, since A: she had work on that day, and 2: her parents had no reason to leave the house for a long enough time. Today, however, fate seemed to be working in her favor. She had managed to arrange her work hours so that Sunday was completely free, and her parents—and thus, her siblings—had volunteered to take down the mini-shelters for the homeless at church, which would then be followed by mass, which would then be followed by Mom talking with everyone in the church for nearly an hour. The cult had until 11 AM at the earliest, and maybe they'd get lucky and her family would go out for donuts afterwards like Devi wanted.

Vet lifted The Cat into her arms, nuzzling her head with her own, and pressed the seal on the letter. The air seemed to buzz slightly, and in a series of flashes of light, members of The Cult of Veneziano appeared in The Vet's house. The house was filled with the sound of gasps of surprise, mumbling, and "aw, look at the kitty!" It was a very tight fit, but somehow, a hundred cult members pressed shoulder to shoulder in the space provided.

The Cat, as cats are wont to do, was clearly displeased with the sudden appearance of so many people, and struggled in The Vet's arms. Vet simply set the letter down and cuddled the cat, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear. For a hundred people being pressed into a small space, it was surprisingly quiet… until someone spoke loudly.

"I was with my boyfriend!" The Artist whined. "He's not gonna know what happened!"

"Bloody heck, Artist, that's your own fault!" A familiar voice silenced everyone. Vet took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. "I told you it was either last Sunday or this Sunday! You should have been prepared!"

"But my boyfriend wanted to hang out!"

Brittany Davis, squeezed past some people and stopped between The Vet and The Artist, messy blond hair suggesting she had just gotten out of bed. "Get your priorities straight, Artist! Your friend is missing!"

The Artist opened her mouth, then closed it and looked at the floor. She tugged at her hair she'd grown out, tied in a braid and dyed blue and blonde.

"Alright," Brittany said. "Now, could I have everyone's—"

"Brittany!" Another familiar voice called from the crowd. "I can't see ya!"

"I'm in the middle of the bloody room, Casey! You don't have to see me; you can hear me!"

Some more murmuring rose from the group, followed with a series of "'scuse me"'s and "sorry"'s. Casey appeared next to Brittany and bounced on her heels, short black hair moving with her motions and her all-black outfit wrinkled like she'd just gotten out of bed, too. "'ere I am, love!"

"C-Casey!" Brittany stammered as a bunch of 'ooh's and 'aw's reverberated around the house.

Vet snapped her fingers, still holding The Cat. "Can we please get to the point?" She asked in annoyance. The Cat meowed again, and Vet squeezed through the group to grab The Cat's food and water dishes before placing them all in the bathroom where the litterbox was and closing the door.

"Yes, you're right," Brittany said when Vet returned. "I've given you all a brief tale of what happened, but The Vet and The Artist know the story best, which isn't saying much. Vet, would you kindly explain what you know?"

Vet nodded. "Two weeks ago, my sister, The Author, disappeared off the face of the Earth. Again." Someone snickered, but she continued: "My other sister, The Deviant, said The Author told her she was going to the movies with The Artist."

"Which we didn't, by the way," Artist popped in. "I haven't seen her since the beginning of her summer break."

"Exactly," Vet nodded. "Devi told me something interesting, too. She said she heard the voices of a few men as The Author was leaving the house. Immediately, I thought of the countries."

Brittany frowned. "I believe I made it quite clear that no one in the cult is allowed to be with the countries one on one, especially if it happened already."

"Do ya think the countries kidnapped The Author?" Casey asked.

"I don't know why they would, but that's our only clue," Vet replied. "It's not like I don't trust them, but I don't know what else to think."

Brittany hummed and put a hand to her chin. "I believe we should at least talk to them. I'll conjure a letter to—"

DING-DONG!

Everyone went quiet and looked in the direction of the door.

"Maybe it's just a mailman," Vet said after a moment. "Everyone, stay quiet; I'm going to check."

The crowd pressed away from the hall entrance into the living space, giving The Vet ample room to reach the door. She peered through the window again. There seemed to be more than one person there, but it definitely wasn't her family. _Neighbors?_ She wondered. _They'd better not ask to come in…_ She opened the door—

WHOOSH!

There was a collective noise of gasps and confusion as a lukewarm gust blew through everyone in the house. Vet blinked away the feeling and did a double take. Standing on the porch in casual clothes was a group of twelve anime men. The one at the front made jazz hands. "Tag, Maedchen! It's ya boi Gilbert!"

* * *

I heard somewhere that in Pokemon Sun and Moon, Guzma, the leader of Team Skull, says 'ore-sama' at some point in the Japanese version, and the best translation of that, in the mind of the person analyzing the quote, was 'it's your boy', or 'it's ya boi'. Gilbert says 'ore-sama' in his song "Mein Gott", so I figured if anyone would say 'it's ya boi', it'd be Gilbert.

Oh, look, it's The Family! They won't be making much of an appearance for a while, but you will see them again! What did you think of them? I tried to recreate the dynamic my family really has. Usually with Gamer, there's a lot more yelling and complaining.

So many people, all in one house! And what are the countries doing here? Did they know something was up? For answers to these questions and more, leave a review, tell me what you thought, and check out some of my other stories if you're up to it! Until then!


	3. Being Frustrated

Be prepared for callbacks to game details I completely neglected in the first book in this series. Also hey I'm back.

I should probably write down a vague plan of what exactly I want to do with this story's plot in my writing journal or something, but I'm running out of pages. If I can just make this work, one way or another, this might end up being one of the most intense stories I've written to date, even more so than "The Author, The Rogues, and The Oni" was. Of course, we'll have to see how this plays out. Anyway, see you at the bottom of the page.

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Chapter 2: Being Frustrated

The Vet stood there for a moment, just staring at the casually dressed countries. Gilbert made jazz hands again, a little more hesitantly. "H-hallo? It's ya boi Gilbert?"

"I told you that wouldn't work," Ludwig muttered.

"I thought it fit him quite well," Kiku piped up.

Vet sighed and pinched her brow. "Go out to the bottom of the cul-de-sac," she told them. "There's not enough room in the house." She turned in the direction of the rest of the cult. "EVERYONE OUTSIDE!" She yelled.

Glad to have some more elbow room, the cult members rushed out the door, nearly running over the countries as they all went to where they were told. Vet did a once over of the first floor to make sure no one was left behind, peeked open the bathroom door to pet The Cat once more, then grabbed the key to the house and closed the door.

She strode down the path to the drive way and out onto the street. Everyone was taking deep breaths and fanning themselves, probably because of how hot being in a small space with a hundred people in the summer was. Vet stopped between the cult members and the countries, turning to face the latter with her hands on her hips. "Funny, we were just talking about you," she said.

"Dude, why do you sound so mad?" Alfred asked.

"Isn't it obvious, you wanker?" Arthur swatted Alfred's arm. "Her sister is missing!"

Vet narrowed her eyes. "And how do you know that?"

"Ah, so he wasn't making things up," Ivan said with a smile.

Gilbert glared at him. "The awesome me would never lie about this! I am too awesome to—"

"What. Is. Happening?" Vet growled. The whole group flinched at her cold tone.

After a brief pause, Gilbert spoke again: "Alright, hear me out, Maedchen."

"Ich bin zuhoeren," Vet replied.

"Gut. Now, would you all believe me if I told you that whenever The Author thinks or says the word "awesome", I feel it? Like a disturbance, but not as evil?"

Casey strode up next to The Vet. "I remember that," she said. "When we were lookin' for The Author last year at Feli's meeting place, ya knew she was back in the main meetin' room, _somehow._ Is that what this is about?"

Gilbert nodded eagerly. "Well, two weeks ago, I felt The Author saying the word 'awesome'. I thought it was weird, but I thought it was just her saying that word, and that's it. But a few days after that, I started to feel her thinking or saying the word 'unawesome' every day for the past week and a half. I know something is wrong, and after Alfred did some research on where she lived, we came to see what happened."

"And you thought she had gone missing?" Vet asked.

"Ja. The time I heard her say 'awesome' two weeks ago, she didn't say it here, exactly. She said it maybe… ich weiss nicht, fifteen minutes from here? And everyday she's been saying 'unawesome', it's somewhere… not here. I almost feel like it's… well…"

Brittany walked up to the middle of the group, since the cult members had unanimously decided to surround them on all sides to hear and see what was happening. "Where do you think she is, Mr. Beilschmidt?" she asked.

"…At the mansion."

Silence, for the most part. Some cult members were whispering to their friends, unsure of what to make of Gilbert's statement.

Finally, Brittany spoke: "It's our only lead. And, besides, there's something I'd like to do at the site of the mansion. Countries, will you help us search for The Author?"

The countries parted and let Feliciano Vargas step forward. "Of course, Brittany! Everyone here is important and we won't let anything bad happen to anyone."

"What do you want to do at the mansion?" Vet asked Brittany with a hint of suspicion.

"It occurred to me over the past year and a half that there were some things about the mansion we didn't entirely solve by blowing it up."

"Like what?"

"Like the clocks."

A quiet chorus of "oh yeah"s and "she's got a point"s circled around the inner group.

"I had hoped that by blowing up the mansion, we had solved every problem it presented our mission. However, I have a feeling that not all of the clocks have been destroyed. It doesn't seem to be affecting time and space like it did in the game or before we attacked, but it may be our next clue."

"One problem with that," The Vet said. "We only have until eleven AM at _least_ to try and get a lead on where my sister is. I told my parents that I would be going on a road trip with some friends, and they're not gonna be happy to see me still at home with a group of a hundred acquaintances. How are we going to get to the mansion, search for all the clocks that might not have broken in a freaking bombing, _and_ find my sister in that short amount of time?"

Brittany gave her a sly look. "Magic, of course. We'll freeze time temporarily for everyone except us, then take all the time we need for our search."

"Of course." Vet sighed. "I'd rather not go back there, but if it means finding my sister, I'll help however I can. Are we all in on this?"

"What?!" Someone in the back of the outer circle yelled. "I can't hear you! Speak up!"

"SHE SAID—" Casey began.

"What?! I can't hear you! Speak up!"

"Oh, for the love of—who the bloody heck is saying that?" Brittany snapped. The cult and countries parted away from the speaker: a white blob with a face and a little curl on its "head".

They all stared at it, and it stared back at them. Finally, The Artist said it: "Is that the gosh-dang Mochi America?"

* * *

Yeah, like I said, I'm trying to tie back into the original game a little bit; answer some questions the unfinished game doesn't answer. This will include the clocks, Mochi America, Ivan's mysterious phone calls, the "Congratulations" voice, and the end of the known game. Be prepared, we're going in deep… I hope.

Anyway, what did you think? I wasn't originally planning to end this chapter here, but I got an idea and decided to run with it. I hope you don't mind. So, please, leave a review, tell me what you thought, and check out some of my other stories if you like. I'll see you next time, though given that I'll be finished with Jan Term soon, it might not be for a while. Until then!


	4. Being Emotional

Jan Term is almost over for me, so I'll have to take a break from writing for fun after February 3, since that's when Spring Term starts. I hope you liked what I've come up with so far. There's more to come, so please follow, favorite, or review. Oh, and two things I don't own: Splatoon and weighted blankets. Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 3: Being Emotional

…

Everyone blinked at Mochi America. Mochi America blinked back. "I remember Estonia saying something about mochi creatures once…" Ivan said quietly.

"Why does it look like me? Alfred asked.

"I wonder what it tastes like?" Casey wondered aloud.

"Casey, please, think with your head and not your stomach," Brittany said as she pinched her brow. After a second, she returned her gaze to the creature. "…Hello," she said quietly.

"YO!" Mochi America cheered.

"Um, yes, quite… How did you get here?"

Mochi America bounced up to Brittany, and she flinched. It was almost up to her knee in height. "I wanna help, dudes!" It said happily.

"That doesn't answer my question," Brittany muttered.

"Aw, come on, love, it's cute, it is!" Casey reached down and patted Mochi America on the "head". It bounced in place excitedly.

"…Uh-huh."

Vet cleared her throat. "Can we please cast the spell that stops time or whatever and get to the mansion, please? I don't care why or how this thing got here… sort of… but I just want to find my sister and be done with this."

"All in due time, Vet," Brittany said, leaning forward and looking the Mochi America up and down. "Fascinating… in the game, it got stuck in a wall, so I assume that was the case during our fight… yet it didn't implode when we dropped ten bombs on the mansion. I wonder why?"

"Can you just stop? For one second?" Vet snapped. "Stop trying to analyze everything that's not important and just help me find my sister!"

Brittany turned and glared at The Vet. "First of all, _you_ are a college graduate looking to get into a graduate school; _you_ should be analyzing strange things as part of your education. Second of all, this sort of stuff _is_ important! Why did a presumably living thing survive a bomb to the face? What significance does someone with magic like The Author's have in the grand scheme of things?"

"Oh, _here_ we go."

"What does _that_ mean?"

The Vet and Brittany were starting to make their way to each other, only being held back by The Artist and Casey respectively.

"Come on, Vet, now is not the time," The Artist said.

"Love, please, you know I 'ate seein' you this way," Casey said quietly.

**"That's enough."** Everyone turned to Feliciano, who had his hands on his hips and was looking between the two girls. Everyone who had been trying to take bets quickly put their money and Pokémon cards away. "I don't entirely understand what got you two to act this way towards each other, and I have a feeling you two don't, either," Feliciano continued. He turned to The Vet. "Vet, I understand you're worried about your sister, but you have to be willing to not get answers immediately. And Brittany," he looked at Brittany, "I understand that you're looking for answers of your own, but there are priorities to keep in mind." The two girls looked at the asphalt in shame. "I want you two to shake hands and apologize."

The Artist let Vet go, and Casey gingerly did the same with Brittany. Vet and Brittany looked at each other for a moment, then shook hands. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," Vet said tightly.

Brittany sighed. "And I'm sorry for not being straight with you. As soon as we find The Author, I'll bring you two together and tell you what I know."

Feli smiled. "This is why you're the leader, Brittany: you're willing to make a compromise."

Brittany suddenly tensed. "A-actually, about that—"

"HEY YA'LL!" Mochi America shouted, making everyone jump.

"Yes? What is it, cutie?" Casey cooed at the blob.

"Let's go~!" It cheered, bouncing in place again.

Casey smiled brightly, then pointed at it while looking at Brittany. "I want one, love."

"C-Casey…!" Brittany blushed again, trying not to look at the slightly confused countries and the shipping members of the cult. "Anyway, Mochi America has a point; we should go as soon as we can. I'm sure the neighbors are slightly confused about why there's a party going on at the bottom of the cul-de-sac."

Vet glanced at one of the houses across the street. The blinds were shut, but had they been that way since they got outside, or had the neighbors seen the commotion and shut the blinds to hide from the crowd? She shook her head as Brittany reached into her pocket and pulled out her small black book and flipped through the pages. "Alright, I can combine two spells so that we can temporarily freeze time _and_ get to the location of the mansion at once, though I'll need everyone who can cast spells to help. Mr. Kirkland, would you be willing to help?"

Arthur brightened. "Of course, Brittany. I'm always eager to share my expertise on magic."

"Show off," Francis muttered. Arthur shot him a look before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a long stick of white chalk.

"Vet, will it rain at some point today?" He asked.

"I think so, yeah. Why?"

"I know we'll be freezing time, but I'm not sure how your parents and neighbors would feel about having a giant magic circle in front of their houses. If it rains before anyone notices, good. If not…"

"My parents would probably think it was some cool drawing made by the kids a few houses up. They're pretty openminded. Not too sure about the neighbors, though."

"Then let's hope it rains," Brittany said. "Now, could everyone whose favorite characters include England, Norway, and Romania step forward to help with the spell casting? I'll give you a brief refresher. Everyone else, onto the drive way."

Everyone did as they were told: the magic casters lined up on the outer edge of the cul-de-sac while Arthur and Brittany gave a brief recap on their magic circle lessons, and everyone else gathered into the driveway area.

Casey came up to The Vet. "'Ey… you alright, Vet?" she asked gingerly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. We were both at fault; Feliciano was right."

"Well, that too, but I also meant… in general. With your sister missin' and all…"

Vet sighed and rubbed her temples. "It's… not _great_, but it could be worse. I guess it was kind of lucky, if you can call it that, that she disappeared a few days before she was supposed to go back to college. The Artist and I managed to make up a story about how The Author went back early with The Artist, but Mom's getting really worried. If I didn't know what happened, I'd be worried, too. She's not the most stable person, you know? I don't think even _she_ knows what could set her anxiety off. I just… miss her…" Vet's voice cracked, and Casey hugged her tightly, like she was a weighted blanket that had been tossed unceremoniously over The Vet's body.

"It'll be alright, dear," she said gently. "Who knows? Maybe The Author is wipin' the floor with the 'eads of the baddies that took 'er."

Vet laughed and let go, wiping at her eyes. "Thanks, Casey."

Casey smiled and made a motion as if she were curtseying. "See, Mum? Even goths like me can care about people!" She called to the sky. Vet laughed again.

"We're ready!" Brittany called. A few people cheered and clapped as the group made their way to the magic circle. "Alright, lads and lassies, just like we practiced."

The members with magic abilities nodded and raised their hands, chanting a spell in what sounded like a mix of Inklish and Latin. Vet closed her eyes as she felt the magic surround her, like a prickly rain. Maybe Casey would be right, and The Author wasn't in as much danger as Vet was worried she was. Little did she know…

_Elsewhere…_

The floor was cold and dark. Everything felt heavy. But one thought rose above all else: _This is… unawesome._ Then I became unconscious again.

* * *

I came up with the ending last minute. _Ah yes,_ I thought to myself, _what a cliffhanger that will be! Mwahaha._

Anyway, we didn't get to the mansion like I hoped we would, but that just means that's what the next chapter will be about. Hooray! So, what did you think? Leave a review and tell me, please? I'll try to see if I can write one more chapter before the next semester starts. Until then!


	5. Being Hot

So, a few things before we get started. First: my little sister, The Deviant, has a Tumblr! She posts a lot of drawings, mostly Splatoon, the Mother/Earthbound series, Professor Layton, and some original works. She's really good, please check her out! She goes by "time gear remix", so remove the spaces and look her up.

Second: shout-out to XXSamuraiPrincess26XX for being the first to review this story! Thank you so much, you have no idea how much this means to me. I'm curious, though, did you read the first three books before this one? The order is: "The Cult of Veneziano", "The Cult of Steve", "The Author, The Rogues, and The Oni", and this one, "The Citadel of the Onis"; just in case you're interested.

Third: Monday is the first day of Spring Semester, so I won't likely have a lot of free time to write for fun until Spring break, which is sometime in mid-March, and even then, I might have homework that I can't not do. If worst comes to worst, I'll be back in mid-late-May.

Fourth: I don't own Harry Potter.

Fifth: I had forgotten about one of the game mechanics of HetaOni that needed explanation. You'll see it towards the end of the chapter.

Sixth: There is no sixth. This is the end of the things before we begin. Now, we can begin. Enjoy the story.

* * *

Chapter 4: Being Hot

_Sheesh,_ The Vet thought, _if the summers back home are bad, I'd hate to live… wherever this mansion is._

It was broiling. As Vet blinked in the bright sunlight, she could make out heat waves in the distance, making the bright green grass appear as though it were dewy. The cult and countries had appeared in a large, empty, grassy field, with a forest in one direction and a darker spot a little farther away, too far to really see. Vet knew what it was, though: the site of the mansion.

She looked down at herself: instead of the old T-shirt and jean skirt she'd been wearing, she was now in her Cult uniform: Germany's teal hat, green pants, black tank top, and black boots. There was a pistol at her hip with the German flag painted on the handle. She held a hand over her forehead to block out the sun and looked around at the other members. Sure enough, they all had the uniforms they had worn during their first meeting on. The countries, on the other hand, had not changed clothes, which was probably better for their sanity.

Most people were complaining loudly about how hot it was; The Artist was trying to unbutton her beige jacket and loosen her black tie, though she seemed to be having trouble since her fingers were slick with sweat.

Casey, for some reason, seemed perfectly fine. Despite wearing what looked like a heavy green cotton dress with an apron, she was fluffing her skirts with a smile on her face and examining her white apron with interest. She turned to Brittany, who was having better luck than The Artist with loosening her black tie. "Love, do ya think a black apron would look good with this dress? I like it 'ow it is, but I feel like something darker would look nice too, I do."

Brittany wiped her brow while trying not to pant. "Casey, you look good in anything."

"Aw, love!"

"Wait, did I just say that out loud?" Brittany blushed, though from heat or embarrassment, people could make a guess.

Casey nudged Brittany's arm playfully, meaning she nearly knocked her over. Once Brittany straightened, she quickly pulled out her black book and flipped to a certain page. She mumbled something under her breath while waving her hand towards one of the hills in the field.

Vet watched with a sense of curiosity as walls of concrete bricks appeared in small sparks of white light, turning and adjusting—like the entrance to Diagon Alley in the first Harry Potter movie— to the hills foundation to create a long gray bunker. Another spark of white, and two glass doors appeared on the side closest to the group.

"EVERYONE INSIDE!" Brittany called tiredly. Everyone walked up the hill as quickly as they could without overheating.

It was dark and cool inside, a welcome relief noted by loud sighs of content as people continued to take off the excessive jackets and cloaks.

Brittany flipped to another page and waved her hand again, this time summoning several coolers from the shadows. As soon as she was done, she flopped onto the cool floor and sighed. Casey immediately lay next to her, holding her hand.

Curious, Vet opened a cooler and looked with hunger (or thirst, rather) at the ice-cold bottles of water. She grabbed two, tossing one to The Artist while downing the other in content. As soon as the other members saw what they contained, they rushed for the coolers, careful not to run over their leader and her possible girlfriend.

Vet took off her hat and splashed the remaining water in her bottle on her head, sighing at the cooling feeling it gave her. She looked down at Brittany and Casey. "Is she good?" Vet asked Casey.

Brittany had her eyes closed and was panting heavily. "I think she 'asn't used magic in a while, so she musta tuckered 'erself out," Casey replied. "Pass me a bottle, I'll 'elp 'er."

Vet nodded and squeezed past the crowd around the coolers to grab a water bottle. She handed it to Casey, who helped Brittany sit up and gave her the bottle. Brittany drank slowly, taking deep breaths between sips until the bottle was empty. She said something quietly, too quiet for Vet to hear over the murmurs of the cult, but whatever it was made Casey smile and squeeze Brittany's hand.

Vet crushed her bottle and shoved it into her pants pocket. She held out her hands for Brittany and Casey to grab, which they did, and she pulled them to their feet. Brittany was looking a lot better now.

"YO!" Vet jumped and turned to see Mochi America looking up at her. It was a little hard to see in the dark, but for some reason, she felt an almost… malicious tone in its voice. Despite this, it was smiling brightly. Was Vet imagining things…?

"What is it, you weird… thing." Vet wasn't sure how to treat a living ball of rice and possibly red bean paste. It stared at her, and even though her eyes were adjusting to the dark, it was hard to see the emotion in its eyes. Wait—could mochi creatures have emotions beyond what she'd seen in the comics? It _had_ been a while since she read one about Estonia's mochi friends, but she didn't remember there being much complexity to their characters.

Vet broke eye contact with Mochi America and noticed Ivan staring hard at it, an unreadable expression on his face. He definitely wasn't smiling, so that probably wasn't a good sign.

"Alright, everyone; I just finished having heat stroke and I'm feeling better now," Brittany called. Everyone turned towards her. There were a few nervous giggles, but no one could tell if she was being serious or not. "Now, here's the plan: we're going to go into the mansion grounds—don't worry, there shouldn't be any radiation there anymore—and we're going to search for any clocks that might not have been broken. If we find any, we'll take them back here to examine and see if there's any residual magic to them that could lead to The Author's whereabouts. Are your instructions clear?"

"OKAY!" Mochi America yelled before anyone could speak.

"I hate that it sounds like me," Alfred muttered. Ivan was still staring icily at the creature.

"Ah, yes, Mochi America, I forgot about you…" Brittany hummed for a bit, then snapped her fingers. "You were already in the mansion before the countries came in, right? Could you lead us to where you think the remaining clocks are?"

"OKAY!"

"That settles it, then." Brittany clapped her hands. "Everyone, grab one more water bottle, then we're moving out!"

The cult members made quick work of the coolers, then headed out the door and back into the heat. Surprisingly, the walk wasn't too long, and they were soon at the remains of the mansion. Vet looked slowly around the rubble. Burned pieces of would, a few bits of ceramic, presumably from the bathrooms, and lots of broken stone. _Where should we start?_ Is what The Vet would have wondered if Gilbert didn't suddenly and loudly whoop and run to a certain pile of debris.

"Gilbert, did you find a clock?" Ludwig asked, hurrying after him. Vet followed suit.

"Even better!" Gilbert lifted away a few pieces of wood and showed off what he had found.

"…A toilet? Are you freaking kidding me?!" Lovino growled in annoyance. "If you needed to go, why the heck didn't you say so when we were inside?"

Gilbert gave him a look. "It's not just _any_ toilet, Süditalien. West, pass me some Euros." Ludwig sighed and handed him a few coins. "Nun wollen wir mal sehen… Ich denke es ist… da!" Gilbert opened a coin slot next to the perfectly intact toilet's flush handle and put the coins in it, closing it after it was full. After a few seconds, on the side of the toilet, a larger slot opened automatically. There was a can of cheap beer in the slot. Gilbert held it up triumphantly. "Bier ist besser als Wasser, ja?" He took a swig.

"Did—you just drink toilet beer?" Vet asked.

Gilbert shrugged. "It's cheap, but it's better than nothing. Oi, there's a note…" He pulled a sticky note off of the bottom of the can and read it aloud: "To aid you on your mission. Do not trust the mochi."

"I'm far ahead of you…" Ivan muttered.

Brittany finally came over, followed closely behind by the Mochi America and Casey. "Well, the first three piles of rubble were a bust. I've sent the rest of the cult in small groups to search the other piles; I guess Mochi America doesn't actually know where the clocks are. Did you lot find anything?" Mochi America bounced up to Gilbert, seeming to be trying to get a look at the note. "…Well?"

Gilbert carefully handed Brittany the note, and she read it silently.

"What's it say, what's it say?" Mochi America asked excitedly.

Brittany glanced down at the creature, unease on her face. Then, she folded the note and put it in her pocket with her book. "It says 'To aid you on your mission'. I think I have an idea of who sent it, which means they know what we're doing here… and if it was here before, does that mean they were trying to help before they realized she was interfering…?" Her voice got quieter as she said this, speaking more to herself than anyone else. Casey squeezed her hand. Vet noticed that the mochi had a bit of a crease in its "brow" that made it look annoyed. _Definitely don't trust the mochi,_ she decided.

"Brittany!" Someone called. The countries and the three cult members looked up to see a boy with dark skin and hair with white bandages tied around the cuffs of his beige pants waving at them from a few meters away.

"Ah, Damien," Brittany waved back. "What is it?"

"You need to come see this," he called.

"Don't speak in vague clichés, wanker!" Casey called back.

"Okay, _fine._ We found a clock."

"Thank you~!"

"Who's the author here, you or my sister?" Vet asked.

Casey shrugged and smiled at her. "Literature's my favorite class, it is. I know all the clichés. Or most of 'em, anyway."

"Never mind that," Brittany interrupted, "let's just go get that clock."

* * *

So the thing that I realized I hadn't thought of explaining was… the toilet! In case you don't know: in the game this story is based on, there's a toilet where you can put your "Heta" (the currency in the game; though here I replaced it with any coins, since Heta was likely just a game mechanic and not an actual thing) in exchange for beer and onigiri, which refilled your MP and HP respectively. There are a few other items you can buy, but it's not super important or interesting for the story, so I probably won't mention it again unless something comes up. As for why the toilet was there in the first place… Brittany's on the right track, I'll say that much.

So, what did you think? Can Mochi America be trusted? Does it truly not know where the clocks are, or is it hiding something? For answers, leave a review, follow, and/or favorite, and I'll see you in a while… I hope. Until then!


	6. Being Sensible

Okay, I know I said I wouldn't be returning until mid-March at the earliest, but I managed to finish all of my homework for the weekend and I wanted to do something besides stare at my phone. Thus, I wrote. Let me know what you like about it. See you at the bottom of the page.

* * *

Chapter 5: Being Sensible

The Artist was flipping the clock in her hands when The Vet and the others came over. It was about as big as a standard round school clock, with the numbers one through twelve on its white face and a blue rim around the whole thing and the back. It appeared to be ticking, but in such a subtle way that it was hard to tell.

The Artist flipped the clock to look at the back again. Again, a standard clock, with a small rectangle to cover the batteries and tiny printed words that probably were supposed to signify where it came from. It looked like a bunch of scribbles etched into the plastic.

"…Huh," Brittany said when she was handed the clock. "I guess I never really thought about what the clocks would look like, but it definitely wasn't… this."

"Whatever," The Vet said. "How do we break it?"

"Patience, Vet. We should take this back to the bunker so we can look at it more closely and see if there's any hint of The Author's magic here."

"Fine." Vet rolled her eyes and turned, nearly tripping over Mochi America.

"YO!" It cheered again, smiling as brightly as ever at her.

"I'm starting to think your vocabulary is limited to vague American-sounding phrases," she said to it. It continued to smile, but she felt something cold on her neck, like an ice cube dropped down her shirt. She quickly broke eye contact.

"Should we keep searching for clocks, Brittany?" Damien asked.

Brittany hummed and looked around at the small groups of cult members around larger rubble piles. "I hate to make anyone stay out in this heat longer than they need to… On one hand, it would be good to get everyone's thoughts on the magic of this clock, but on the other hand, if there are more clocks to find, it would be better to leave some people to keep searching."

"Let 'em stay! Let 'em stay!" Mochi America yelled. Vet noticed that Ivan was looking somehow even more angrily at the creature. After what the toilet beer note said, it probably wasn't a bad thing to keep an eye on the mochi.

Brittany glanced down at it again, then shook her head. "No. I think it would be better for everyone to go back to the bunker. Mochi America, we could use your… experience with the mansion to help figure out these clocks."

"Okay." It sounded considerably less excited at this, though its smile never wavered.

Brittany raised an arm over her head. "Everyone," she called, "we're going back inside. If you've found anything useful, we'll talk about it in the bunker."

There were a few cheers and the groups began to merge back into one that traveled back to the hill. Vet noticed that Casey had pulled Brittany aside, and walked over to hear their conversation.

"It's just for a little longer, Brittany, I'll be back as soon as I'm done," Casey said, holding Brittany's hand with hers. "I 'ave a feelin I'm onto somethin important."

"But I have to examine the clock at the bunker, Casey, I can't do that _and_ stay with you…"

"I can 'andle myself for a tick, love. Don't worry."

"But—"

"I can partner with her, Brittany," The Vet interrupted. The two girls looked at her, not realizing until now they were being listened to. "Besides, I'm no magic expert, so I'll probably be of better help out here than inside. Whatever's the most efficient in finding my sister."

"Efficient, yes…" Brittany slowly let go of Casey's hand and took a step back. Vet could see the countries and cult members all walking back towards the bunker, with Mochi America not far behind. Oddly enough, it spun as it hopped, seeming to be keeping an eye on the cult and the three girls as it went. "Fine. I'll bring you both a water bottle when we're done. Hopefully, this won't take long. Stay safe."

"Aye, captain!" Casey saluted and curtseyed at the same time, then held her arm in Vet's direction.

The Vet was about to entwine her arm with Casey's when Brittany grabbed her hand. "W-wait!"

Casey and Vet looked at her. Brittany's eyes were flicking between the two girls, her face growing pink again.

"What is it, lo—love?!"

Brittany pulled Casey's hand to her mouth and kissed it, then dropped the hand and ran after the larger group. Casey was looking between her hand and Vet. Vet waggled an eyebrow at her and Casey covered her face. "What's wrong?" Vet asked. "You call her 'love' all the time; I figured you were a couple."

"W-well, I'd _like_ to be, but I'm still not sure 'ow to broach it, ya know?"

"When this is all over, you should just talk with her. That's the most straightforward approach."

"I suppose… though I wonder why she chose now of all times to do… that."

"Don't think I'm antagonizing Brittany or anything, but do you think she was… jealous?"

"Jealous?" Casey cocked her head. "What makes ya say that?"

"It's just, with the way she was looking at us both when we were about to link arms and all… do you know how good she is with relationships?"

"From what I've seen," Casey said as she led The Vet to a larger pile of rubble further from the others, "she 'as a 'ard time makin friends, she does. Even before the whole cult thing, I never saw 'er talkin to a lot a people at school. I think she's gettin better, but it's still a process."

"She may not know the difference between friendly interactions and flirting. Maybe she sees linking arms as a romantic thing to do?"

"I guess," Casey said. "I didn't mean for it to come off that way, though. Did you think that I…?"

"Oh, no," Vet said quickly. "Besides, I have a boyfriend, and we're pretty close. I didn't meet him until the end of junior year at high school, though now that we're both out of college and trying to find work…"

"Aw, that's cute, it is!" Casey giggled. "I 'ope you two 'ave a 'appy life!"

"Oh, that's probably not for a while. I still want to get into vet school and have a real job, not just waiting tables."

"Ah, of course. 'Ere we are!" Casey stopped in front of the pile. It was maybe twice their height and three average human lengths across. It was almost like the pile had been put together rather than occurring naturally in an explosion.

"So, what makes you think this pile has something special?" Vet asked.

"It's just a feelin, really; I didn't see anythin pokin out of it, but I've come to trust my feelings. Ya know, I felt that The Author 'ad somethin special about 'er, too, after we met."

"Okay…" Vet felt a bit uncomfortable, but shook her head. "Let's try to do this quickly so we can get those water bottles…"

**In the Bunker…**

Brittany waved her hand and a small overhead projector— like you'd see in school in the old days— appeared. She turned it on, and a square of light appeared on the wall. She slid the clock onto the surface of the machine and the clock appeared in all its perfectly colored glory.

"Hang on," The Artist said. "I remember when these were in school. I thought the stuff you put on it had to be see-through for it to work."

"I was thinking the same thing," Damien nodded. "How is this working, Brittany?"

"Magic," she said nonchalantly, not looking away from the clock's image on the wall. The Artist rolled her eyes and Damien huffed. "Alright everyone," Brittany called. "This is a clock."

…

"I don't know where I was going with that statement."

Some light laughter from the crowd of cult member sitting on the floor around her. "Why don't you look for traces of The Author's magic?" Feliciano offered.

"Yes, of course, right-o." Brittany opened her book and scanned the pages. Finding what she was looking for, she nodded and hovered a hand over the clock… only to pull it back with a gasp.

"What is it, ragazza?" Lovino asked in concern.

"It seems…" Brittany frowned. "It seems the clock is naturally resistant to magic, even the powers granted to the cult members. I can't scan for magic traces."

"Maybe Arthur's magic will react differently, oui?" Francis asked.

"I doubt that I can if even a cult member's magic couldn't do it, but I'll try." Arthur scooted next to the projector and waved his hand over the clock. Nothing happened, negative or otherwise. "…Huh."

"Indeed." Brittany frowned. "This was our only lead so far into where The Author is, but if we can't scan it, we're back to square one. We can't just break it without learning if it has anything to do with her…"

"Why don't you just take out the batteries?" The Artist asked. Everyone stared at her, some suppressing laughs. "What? It's not _that_ stupid of a suggestion. Let me try." Without waiting for the okay from Brittany, The Artist scooted up to the clock and flipped it over to see the back. She pried at the plastic rectangle and pulled it off, revealing a single AA battery. She carefully grabbed the battery from both ends and tugged. It took a little muscle, but it finally came out with a pop… and green sparkles. The group gasped as the sparkles flew into the air before fading as quickly as they had come over The Artist. "That was her…" she said quietly, stunned. "That was her magic, I've felt it before!"

"Try to break it!" Brittany said. "We know the clocks are related to The Author; now we just have to break all of them!"

The Artist set the clock face-up on the floor and slammed the heel of her black boot into the center. The crack of glass could be heard by everyone in the bunker.

The countries looked around nervously, expecting flashes of memories and time shenanigans, but nothing seemed to happen… until Brittany stood up suddenly. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what-?" Antonio began.

"Shush! Listen!" Everyone quieted. Mochi America looked like it was about to shout something when Damien slapped a hand over its mouth. Very faintly, there was a _ra-ta-ta-ta_ sound repeating in succession, with a sudden, quiet _bang_ sounding off every so often. "Gunshots…!" Brittany gasped.

"Aiyah!" Yao shot up. "Did some people stay outside?"

"Just two, but if they're shooting… come on!" Brittany unsheathed her katana and ran for the door. Everyone scrambled to follow her.

Brittany burst out of the bunker, nearly sliding on the grass and falling down the hill. She looked in the direction of the mansion and gasped. Almost hidden in the distant heat waves, there was a solid gray mass swaying around in the rubble. "Come on!" She shouted again once more people had come outside. They all ran to the mansion, Mochi America watching closely before hopping after them.

**At the Mansion…**

The Vet rolled to the side, nearly colliding with another pile of scraps to avoid the attack. She was working quietly, which was just as well since she wouldn't have been able to hear anything Casey said over the sound of her machine gun. Casey aimed the gun at the back of its head and fired; it roared and turned to her, letting The Vet have a moment to breath and really look at what they were facing.

It was an Oni, no doubts about it: gray skin, long fangs and claws, and glaring black eyes. It was also much larger than any she had seen at the first battle of the mansion, swinging its bulky arms around in a circle like a helicopter. Casey leapt backwards and tripped over a piece of stone, landing hard on her back and giving a pained cry.

"Casey!" Vet shouted. She ran between the monster's legs and skidded to a stop between it and the fallen girl. Trying to keep her aim true, she shot at the monster's forehead. It stumbled back and roared loudly, making both girls cover their ears.

Suddenly, there was an even louder roar, making The Vet, Casey, and the monster turn to see a large group of people charging at them, weapons drawn and yelling. They swarmed the Oni like ants, cutting, beating, and shooting it until it collapsed in a bloody heap. The cult cheered.

Brittany dashed to Casey's side and held her hand. "This is why I said staying out here was a bad idea, you idiot! I should have—I should have known breaking the clock would do something like this-!"

Casey put her hand on Brittany's and smiled weakly. "Couldn't 'ave… known that… idjit."

"…Are you hurt? Show me!" Brittany cried.

Vet hurried over and knelt next to them. "Listen to me, Casey," Vet said seriously. "I'm going to go over all the main parts of the body; just follow my instructions. First, turn your head from side to side and tell me if it hurts."

Casey did what she was told and said only "Just a slight 'eadache; nothin serious."

"We'll take a look at it later. Now, wiggle your fingers…" They went down the list, everyone crowding them on all sides to see The Vet at work. Vet nodded once they were done and turned to Brittany and the rest of the group. "She has a headache and a sore back, but the only real issue is her left ankle. She must have twisted it when she tripped."

"Why did you let her trip—ow!" Casey punched Brittany's arm lightly, which meant there would probably be a bruise there tomorrow morning.

"Don't get like that, wanker. I'm alright, I promise."

"…Okay." Brittany turned to someone who looked like Poland. "Can we get the medics to wrap her ankle, please? Thank you," she said as a small number of the cult members flocked to Casey. Before Brittany could be ushered away to make room, Casey pulled her close and whispered something in her ear. Brittany nodded and stood up, making her way to the Vet. Vet raised an eyebrow. "Listen, Vet, I just want to say two things. One: I'm sorry I blamed you for Casey tripping. B: Thank you for pinpointing her injuries."

"You're welcome, Brittany," The Vet replied. There was an awkward silence for a moment. "…Casey told you to apologize, didn't she?"

"No! Well, yes, but—I would have apologized on my own… eventually…"

The Vet hummed and gave a small smile. "They're almost done," Vet noted, nodding in the direction of the medics. "Wanna see what we found?"

"So you did find something?" Brittany asked in surprise. "Was it a clock?"

"No, but it's definitely something weird. Come on." The two girls walked up to what was left of the pile. "We were clearing away the rubble for a few minutes, and we noticed a hole in the ground. But not just any hole…" Vet pointed into the round dirt hole. There was a very short flight of stone stairs, ending at a wooden trap door, all in perfect condition.

"Fascinating…" Brittany said.

"Yeah, I guess. We were about to go tell you all when we heard the sound of glass breaking."

"Ah, yes, The Artist broke the clock before we heard the gunshots."

"I guessed that might be it. Anyway, once the sound stopped, the trap door opened and an Oni came out. Don't know how it fit in there, to be honest, but we started fighting once it was all the way out."

Brittany was still looking at the trap door in the hole. It looked ancient, though surprisingly well maintained, given the number of bombs that had been dropped on the mansion. Something occurred to her. "I think we destroyed all of the clocks in the mansion with the bombs."

"What do you mean?" Vet asked. "We clearly didn't; we found one that wasn't broken."

"Let's think this through." Brittany began to pace back and forth in front of the stairs. "In the game, the clocks gave the countries their memories back; bits and pieces, yes, but from what their psychologists have told me, the countries remember every time loop that occurred at the mansion. But when we broke this clock, some of The Author's magic appeared, and then—"

"The Oni appeared," Vet finished. "What do you think this means?"

"I have my suspicions…"

"But you're not going to tell me." The Vet crossed her arms.

"I want to, really, I do, but… I want to make sure first. Once I find some quiet time, I'll contact… them."

"Who's them?"

"YEAH!" They jumped and turned to see Mochi America staring up at them.

"A-ah… hello there…" Brittany said nervously.

The mochi remained quiet, simply staring. Staring. Staring.

"Brittany! She's better now!" Damien called. Brittany quickly ran back to Casey, and The Vet followed, glancing back once or twice at the mochi. It continued to stare.

"You can walk just fine, but try not to run or jump for a few hours," one of the medics told Casey as they helped her stand up. "We'll take a look again later; the magic in the medical supplies should do its thing."

"Thanks, mates," Casey said as she carefully put some weight on her leg. Seeming to feel no pain, she walked up to Brittany with a bright smile. Brittany was wringing her hands and looking at Casey worriedly. "I'm fine, love, I told you I'd be okay. Though I must admit…" She whispered something too quietly to hear, but Brittany blushed and covered her mouth. "Cutie," Casey said in finality before turning to The Vet. "Are _you_ alright, mate?"

"Yeah, I'm fine; I managed not to run into the piles during the fight, believe it or not."

"Oh, I believe it. Did you show Brittany the stairs?"

"Yep. What should we do now?"

The countries came up to the rest of the girls, followed by the rest of the cult. "Where'd the mochi thing go?" Matthew asked quietly.

"YO!" Everyone turned around. Mochi America was sitting (?) by the stares. Once it had their attention, it hopped down the stairs.

"Where are ya goin, little fella?" Casey asked, walking as quickly as she could towards the stairs. "We don't know what's down there—whoa…"

The group peered down the stairs. Somehow, the trap door was open, showing a light too bright to clearly see past. Brittany stepped a little closer, and Mochi America hopped into the light and disappeared. "A portal…" she said quietly. Then, loud enough for everyone to hear: "I think we just found a portal to the Onis dimension."

"Is that a thing?" The Artist asked.

"The way dimensions work is… complicated. I'll explain another time." Brittany looked around at her group, settling on Feliciano. He looked tense, eyeing the portal warily. She gently patted his shoulder. "If we're all together, we'll be fine. Who knows? Maybe it leads to nowhere and we can just come back out and find another way."

"No," Feli said, still gazing at the trap door. "I'm sure The Author is down there."

"I can feel it, too," Casey nodded. "That's why I wanted to stay and look through the pile; I felt somethin special. This is the way to go."

"…Okay," Brittany agreed. "Are we already to go?"

"You still owe us each a water bottle," Vet said, half-jokingly. Brittany sighed and waved a hand. A water bottle appeared in Casey and The Vet's hands in a puff of smoke. "Sweet." The Vet gulped down the water, Casey doing the same. "_Now_ we're ready to go."

Brittany wrapped an arm around Casey's waist and led her down the stairs. "I can walk just _fine_, love—"

"I just want to make sure," Brittany said, not looking at her.

"Okay, okay, you goose."

"Let's go, everyone." The countries and their cult walked down the stairs and through the portal. After a second, the trap door swung shut behind them, against the law of gravity.

* * *

I wasn't entirely sure where this chapter would lead me, but I'm pleased with what happened. I've got a few more plot points figured out now, so it's just a matter of getting to them. What did you think? Leave a review and tell me what you thought. I'll see you soon… I hope.


	7. Being Furious

To be honest, I didn't think I'd get time to write for this story until later, but here we are! Also I'm back. Yay.

Lots of emotion in this chapter, much more than the one called "Being Emotional. I chose a more direct word for the feelings felt here. Be prepared for yelling. See you at the bottom of the page.

* * *

Chapter 6: Being Furious

The Vet wasn't sure what the Oni dimension would look like, but she certainly didn't imagine it to be this… maintained, for lack of a better word.

The cult and countries appeared in a small stone room that was dark, save for the dim light coming through the holes that were probably supposed to be windows and a door. Everyone clambered out of the trapdoor quickly, which was just as well since it closed as soon as the last person stepped onto solid ground. It was cool and damp, like a rainy fall day. There was no furniture in the room, but The Vet was close enough to the "door" that she could peak outside. The "house" was sitting along a cobblestone road. There were buildings across the street and presumably next to where they were. Everything was quiet.

"…Where are the Onis?" The Artist asked after a second.

"I'm… not sure." Brittany made to go towards the doorway, but then stopped and pulled out her book. "Just in case…" She muttered, flipping to a certain page and placing a hand on one of the stone walls. There was a flash of white, and a symbol of a white flag crossed under a fork appeared on the wall, pulsing with a faint light. "I have a feeling we'll be doing a lot of exploring," Brittany clarified to everyone. "This place feels very… big. So, I've placed a beacon on this building, since it's where we came from and everyone will be able to sense it with their instinctual magic." She slowly exited the building, looking all around her as she did. "It's safe… I think. You lot can come out now."

Casey strode out of the building first, followed by Damien and the countries, then followed by everyone else. Vet looked around. All of the buildings were made of the same stone material, with holes where doors and windows should have been. There was the slightest variation on their color; some buildings had a slight earthy red tinge while others were a pale gray. Most were at least two stories tall, though the one they came out of and a few others were only one story tall. The buildings were all crammed together, almost touching each other on the sides of the road. The road seemed to stretch out for miles in a straight line, though if The Vet squinted enough, she could make out a branching path in the mist. The sky was gray.

"Like I said. Exploring." Brittany refastened her tie. "Okay, countries? Partner up in a pair of six, then go down both ways of this street. Everyone else, follow either pair, then split off as you look through the buildings."

"What will _you_ do, love?" Casey asked in concern.

Brittany hesitated. "I… want to try something," she said. "Maybe they'll listen this time…"

"Whaddaya mean?" Casey cocked her head to the side. Brittany was staring up at the sky, deep in thought. "Brittany?"

Brittany blinked and looked down at her, before gingerly setting a hand on Casey's shoulder. "Don't worry, this shouldn't take long. Run along now, I'll find you as soon as I've finished my… business."

Vet raised an eyebrow. Casey didn't look convinced, but seemed to sense this was not an argument she could win. Something crossed Vet's mind. She tossed her gun as quietly as she could through one of the windows of the building they were in and acted like nothing was wrong. The gun didn't go off, thankfully.

"Okay, love," Casey finally said. "Don't lollygag for too long, alright?"

"I won't… love." Casey grinned as Brittany's face flushed.

"Vamonos, chica!" Antonio called, waving at Casey from further down the street to the left. "You can partner with us!" Brittany squeezed Casey's shoulder gently, then gave her a slight push in the direction of the left group. Casey looked back a few times, but followed Antonio, Lovino, Feliciano, Gilbert, Francis, and Matthew down the street, followed by a slightly larger crowd of cult members.

Brittany watched her go, then turned back to the house, stopping short when she saw The Vet was still standing there. Brittany blinked a bit, then gestured to where Casey had gone. "I'd like you to stay with her while I'm away, Vet. You seem to have a decent knack for keeping her safe."

"Gee, thanks." Vet rolled her eyes. "…You sure you want to be alone?" She asked after a bit.

"I have to be," Brittany said tensely.

"Ooookaaay…" The Vet was definitely going to come back, but Brittany probably wouldn't do anything until she thought she was alone. She'd have to be sneaky, hence the idea of tossing her gun into the building. "Catch you later, then."

"Yes… later." Brittany didn't seem to be focusing on her, but she'd definitely notice if The Vet didn't move.

The Vet began to walk after the left group, looking back a few times as she went. Brittany was watching her go. After a bit of walking, Brittany and the building disappeared in the mist. Vet began to hurry. She should set up something of an alibi so Brittany wouldn't hear that she hadn't met with her group like she promised. After a little more walking, she saw the short round figure of Casey standing in front of a three-story building. It seemed everyone else has already gone inside.

Casey turned and waved at her. She had probably been waiting for her. "'ello, Vet!" She sounded cheery, but not nearly as much as The Vet was used to.

"Hey," she waved back. "Did you guys find anything yet?"

"Well, we only just started, so no, not really. Some a the cult members split off into smaller groups and are looking through the buildings we passed. The countries an I are lookin through this one next."

"Okay, I'll join you then." Vet casually set her hand on her hip… then looked dramatically down at where her hand was and lightly smacked herself in the head. "I think I dropped my gun on the way over," she told Casey.

"Wha—why did ya drop your gun?"

"I dunno!" Vet shrugged dramatically. "Maybe my gun holster thing got loose?"

"…Maybe." Casey was giving her a look. "Well, come on, then. I'll 'elp ya find it—"

"No-it's-okay!" Vet said quickly. "We only walked so far, and there's no one else here. I'll be able to find it, and then I'll come back. You go help the countries with searching the building, I'll be right back!"

"…Mm-hm." Casey didn't look convinced, but sighed and made her way through the doorway. "'urry back, alright?"

"Will do!" Vet gave a casual smile and started meandering back the way she came. "Who knows? Maybe someone else in our group found it and we'll meet half way." Casey didn't respond; she had gone into the "house". Still, Vet acted as casual as she could until the building faded into the mist. Then, she hurried past the other buildings. It seemed that the other group members were still searching their respective buildings, which worked fine for her.

True to Brittany's word, she could sense which house was the right one, despite them looking so similar to each other. She slowed and crouched under the windows until she was on the side of the doorway. She peeked into the room.

Brittany was facing away from her—at the wall, to be specific. Luckily, it was quiet enough for The Vet to hear her muttering to herself. "Confound it all," she was saying, "where _are_ you?"

_Is she searching for The Author with some sort of magic?_ Vet wondered.

Brittany looked at her book again, then raised her hand and whispered a spell. Nothing happened. She growled and smacked her fist into the wall. "Why won't you answer me, you—"

Suddenly, there was a flash of silver, making Brittany stumble back. A large oval appeared on the wall, like a mirror bordered with silver sparkles. There was no reflection, though, and Vet couldn't see whatever was in it that made Brittany gasp. She did, however, hear their voice.

"I believe in your dimension it is considered rude to 'pester' someone repeatedly." Vet couldn't tell if it was a man or woman speaking, but that probably was the least of her concerns.

"I-I-I'm sorry," Brittany said quickly, "but I need to talk to you; so please, friend—"

"Acquaintance," she was corrected coldly. "We are _not_ friends."

"…Of course." Brittany bowed slightly, then straightened. "I need to talk to you about The Author." There was a pause, so she went on. "She's been missing for two weeks, and I think it has something to do with the Onis. There was a clock with her magic in it, and now this portal to the Oni dimension—"

"I am aware."

"Well—do you know where she is?"

"No," they replied.

Vet tightened her grip on the edge of the door frame. If this person already knew her sister was missing, and about the clocks and the mansion and the dimensions, how could they not know where she was? Brittany seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Wh—HOW?!" She yelled. "_You're_ the one who gave us all of these powers, and I _know _that message Gilbert found was from you, and _you're_ the one who put the toilet vending machine in the mansion to help the countries in the first place! So HOW-?"

"SILENCE!" They yelled, and Vet quickly backed out of the doorway, just noticing the cracks forming in the stone around the mirror thing. Slowly, she peeked back into the room. Brittany had stumbled back in fear, though The Vet still couldn't see who or what she was talking to. "Listen to me for once in your life, you insolent brat," they growled. "I recall telling you that I do not necessarily know everything, even with my unbeatable power. That is why I have had to investigate _her_ actions more personally, to see what she is planning."

"…Did you learn anything?" Brittany asked in hesitation.

"…I have some leads."

"Maybe you could tell us—"

"No."

"Why not?!"

"BECAUSE I DO NOT LIKE TO GIVE OUT FAULTY INFORMATION! ALSO, IT IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS WHY I AM NOT TELLING YOU!"

"But—but this is important!" Brittany protested. "The Author means a lot to many of these cult members, including me! And there are people I care about I want to protect! And—"

"I. Do. Not. Care," they snapped, "about your pitiful human relationships. And why should I offer you any more help than I already have if you cannot follow instructions?"

"Wh—I _have_ been following your instructions! I made the camp, I trained the members, I saved the countries—"

"Then _why_, pray tell, is Italy Veneziano still not the leader of the cult?"

Brittany froze. "I—It's just—there hasn't been a good time to discuss it…"

"YOU HAVE HAD OVER A YEAR!"

"Look, there are more pressing matters at hand! Can't you just—"

"No. That is my final answer. If you will excuse me, there are things I need to investigate."

The mirror thing started to shrink. "No! Wait!" Brittany cried desperately.

"…I will see you in person, in time. I am still not sure when or where, exactly, but we _will_ meet. That is all I am telling you. Goodbye, Brittany Davis." The mirror disappeared.

_…What the actual heck was that?_ Vet thought, pulling herself out of the doorway again and leaning against the wall of the building. _Oh, Brittany, what kind of deal with the devil did you make?_ She peeked back into the room. Brittany was still staring at the wall, but she was shaking. The Vet glanced down at her hip, where her pistol was supposed to be. She probably _would_ need it at some point, and Brittany didn't seem like she'd move on her own unless something made her. Vet hated to intrude on… whatever Brittany was dealing with, but she knew she had to act.

Squatting, she crept to the end of the building before standing up. Taking a deep breath and putting on a smile, The Vet called, "Brittany! You still in here?" She walked casually to the doorway. "I think I dropped my gun in here—Brittany?" Brittany had whipped around and was staring at her, the irises in her eyes shaking like in a real horror anime. "Uh… you okay? Did you finish your thing?"

"…" Brittany's mouth moved, but no sound came out.

Trying to act casual, The Vet strode into the room, looking around until she spotted her gun on the floor near the window. "There it is!" She quickly picked up her pistol and stuck it in its holster.

"…Why was your gun in here?" Brittany asked quietly.

Vet shrugged nonchalantly. "I noticed I had dropped it when I was with Casey, and thought I dropped it in the street somewhere, but I couldn't find it. It must have fallen off when we first got here."

"I see." Brittany looked wary. "I would like to be with Casey… if you don't mind."

"Of course," Vet gestured for her to follow. "You don't need my permission to be with her."

"I know," Brittany said quickly. "…Let's go." They walked out of the building together. Vet didn't say anything, but kept an eye on Brittany. Brittany had a far away look on her face, and she was hugging herself. She wasn't sure if this was the first time she felt genuine concern for Brittany, but she was definitely feeling it now.

As they walked along, they suddenly heard an excited chittering coming from one of the buildings. The one Casey had gone into, Vet realized. The two hurried over and leaned into the doorway. Casey, the countries, and a few cult members were talking excitedly to one another. Casey turned when she heard them get close. "There you are!" She said cheerily. "Guess what? We found a—Brittany?"

Brittany had hurried over to her and pulled her into a hug. Casey hugged back, glancing at the Vet with a questioning look on her face. Vet shrugged, a little more genuinely. She honestly didn't know what just happened.

Brittany slowly pulled away. "Sorry, just… happy to see you."

"I know, love," Casey replied kindly. "Do ya want to see what we found? Oh, and Vet, did ya find your gun?" Vet patted the pistol in its holster. "Brilliant! Now come take a look…"

Vet walked up to the group. Feliciano had a bit of a nervous look on his face. Casey held the object out flat. It was a clock.

"I should bring everyone together," Brittany said. She pulled out her book and flipped to a certain page. She put a finger to her temple, and everyone jumped as her voice rang through their heads. _Attention, everyone. Please converge to one of the houses on the left of our starting place. Two stories tall, dark gray, three windows on the ground floor. Er, that's three floors for you Americans. I'll be outside, you can't miss it._ She lowered her finger and put her book back in her pocket. She hurried outside, Casey following after handing the clock to Antonio. He held it like a dead thing.

"It's the exact same as the one at the mansion," Vet said quietly.

"Oui," said Francis. "But why is it here?"

"It probably means The Author is definitely in this world," Matthew replied.

"I feel like we're being watched…" Feliciano was looking out the window into the street, concern on his face. Lovino patted him on the shoulder.

"I felt it again," Gilbert said suddenly.

"What?" Vet looked at him.

"Ja, as we were going to the site of the mansion. I didn't bring it up because I still couldn't tell where it was, but now that we're here…" Gilbert pointed at one of the walls. "I think she's in that direction."

"Okay, then we'll go that way as soon as we break this clock," Vet said firmly.

Just then, Brittany, Casey, the other countries, and the rest of the cult poured into the room. Luckily, the room was just large enough to fit everyone comfortably. "Alright, you lot," Brittany called. "Casey and her group have found another clock." Everyone began whispering to each other in a mix of emotions. "Mr. Carriedo, if I may?" Antonio quickly handed Brittany the clock.

She turned it over to the dark blue plastic back and pulled at the rectangle covering the batteries. It took a little oomph, but she managed to pull it off and take out the battery. Another cloud of green sparkles rose into the air. "What exactly is this doing?" The Artist asked after a second.

"Something," Brittany said. Vet gave her a half-eyed look, but she didn't see it. The group watched the cloud of green hover for a few seconds before they realized something. "…Why hasn't the magic faded yet?" Brittany asked aloud.

Suddenly, the sparkles swirled together into a tight ball. Everyone backed up at the light spun more and more quickly.

"Congratulations," a strange woman's voice echoed from the ball.

Gilbert froze. "Dass Stimme…" he said quietly.

Brittany stepped forward. "Who are you?" She asked as firmly as she could.

There was a pause before the voice spoke again: "I don't share my name with just anyone, my dear Brittany. Only the special ones."

Brittany's brow furrowed. "Okay then… why do the clocks have The Author's magic in them?"

"…I suppose I can tell you. The magic has been put in there for… nothing."

"…What?" Brittany said.

"A distraction, dear. A 'goose chase', if you will. The magic you've been finding is merely excess from my… project."

"YOU!" Vet yelled, running to the ball and being restrained by Brittany and Casey. "YOU have my sister, don't you?! WHERE IS SHE?!"

A laugh echoed around them, something akin to the bad Alice Angel from Bendy and the Ink Machine. "Ah, yes, The Vet. As headstrong as ever. You needn't worry, she is well… for now. Her fate could go either way, at this point. She may live… or she may die. It's not up to me."

The Artist growled. "As soon as I get my hands on you…!"

"Oh, I don't expect you to get that far, but you are welcome to try. I must go now, it's time for the next phase. Break the clock if you wish, it concerns me not. Farewell." The sparkles dissipated.

The Vet broke free from Brittany and Casey's restraint. "NO! No, no, NO!"

Brittany was pacing back and forth. "_This_ is why I was asking for help…" She muttered to herself.

"That voice," Gilbert repeated. "That was the voice I heard in the mansion!"

Casey was giving the clock in her hands with a death glare. Suddenly, it was snatched away from her by The Artist. "Artist?" She asked. "What are you—"

Yelling, The Artist threw the clock onto the ground as hard as she could and slammed her heel into the center. The cracking sound was heard by all. "…What." The Artist returned the glares of those she could see. "It's not like the clocks even do anything—" There was an inhuman roar from outside, and everyone turned to the doorway. Mochi America hopped through the door. "Where the heck have _you_ been?" The Artist snapped.

"Help, dudes!" It cried cheerfully; the ever-present smile plastered on its face. There was a loud thump. Then another. And another. And—

A short(ish) gray Oni with no arms and a hunched back scurried into the room, leering hungrily at everyone. Everyone pulled out their weapons. "Dibs." The Vet and Artist said simultaneously as they began firing their weapons: a pistol for The Vet and an assault rifle for The Artist. The monster stumbled out of the building and everyone swarmed after it. Some yelling, slashing, and shooting later, the Oni was down. No one cheered.

"It would seem," Brittany said sternly to The Artist, "that breaking the clocks does indeed do 'something'."

The Artist huffed and looked at the ground, her arms crossed and her weapon on her back.

"I feel we should regroup," Ludwig suggested. "Let's go back to the base and try to cool off. Nothing good comes of angry actions. Believe me, I know."

"…Right," Brittany pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Come on, you lot. Back to square one."

* * *

Oh, dip! Who _is_ this mysterious woman? If you've read the previous books, you'll know. I would recommend reading the first three books first when you have time; a lot of characters and events won't make sense. Like, when I call a certain group "the countries", do you know who I'm talking about? I want The Reader (that's you) to enjoy this series thoroughly. Also reviews are nice, so there's that. I'm honestly still a little vague on the exact way to get there, but there's a certain part that I am simply _dying_ to get to. I've thought about it for a long time; boy, is it going to be intense.

Anyway, what did you think? Leave a review, tell me what you thought, and I'll try to come back soon. Until then!


	8. Being Redirected

"What's this?" I hear you say. "_Another_ update for this story? OHMYGA—"

Yep. I'm back. Spring break has started for me, though things are a little weird now with school, given everything that's going on, so I might be home until at least mid-April? Yeah, I don't know. I just feel bad for the seniors who might not get to walk the stage until after this thing cools down. Anyway, I digress.

This isn't a warning, it's more of a notice: THERE WILL BE POV SHIFTS IN THIS CHAPTER. I was technically going to already do that; shifting to a certain protagonist's POV when she becomes the focus of the series again, and switching back to the Vet for a short bit while the protagonist is, ahem, occupied. Then, of course, it will return to the true protagonist's point of view. Really looking forward to those chapters, but I'm trying to be patient, which isn't always a virtue of mine when it comes to myself.

Oh! And there will be a short cameo at the end. We've heard of them before, and no one knows them better than you! (That's your hint. Good luck guessing.) See you at the bottom of the page!

* * *

Chapter 7: Being Redirected

The Vet vaguely noticed that as the cult and countries trudged back to "base", Casey was moving around the group and not staying by Brittany's side like she'd usually do. Right then, though, Vet really didn't give a darn. She was mad. No, it was worse than mad. She was infuriated, _enraged_. How _dare_ that woman—whoever or whatever she was—kidnap her sister and then not even give a clear answer on what was happening to her? Normally, she'd have thought something like: _Well _duh_, she didn't let me know. Why would a real villain tell anyone how to rescue the one they'd stolen?_ But she didn't think that now. She was a mess, to put it lightly.

She was stewing inside so hard that she barely noticed they'd entered their base until she heard Brittany sigh loudly and call out: "Alright, you lot. We're back to square one, but that's okay. So, does anyone have any thoughts-?"

"Nope." Casey declared and grabbed Brittany by the arm, dragging her to the trapdoor.

"Casey, what are you-?"

"You sit here." Casey made Brittany sit down next to the trapdoor with her back to the wall. Then she walked over to The Artist and pulled her to the wall on the left. "You sit here… and you sit there." She took The Vet's hand and sat her near the wall opposite The Artist. "Alright, then. Countries, ya know what to do?" They nodded.

"Casey, what is this about?" Brittany asked. She made an attempt to stand up, but Casey shot her a look that made her quickly sit back down.

"Just let me handle this, love. Ya need to take a breather. That goes for you two as well, it does." She looked between The Artist and The Vet. Neither tried to get up, but The Artist looked a little annoyed by all this. "Good. Cult members, to me; countries, just like we talked. Now go!"

The other cult members gathered around Casey. Most of the countries stayed close to her, too, but a few—five, to be exact—split up and made their way to the three sitting members.

**Brittany's Point of View**

Her eyes were on Casey, to the point she didn't notice anything else until two people sat next to her. She looked up and saw… oh, gobsmackers, was that-?

"Hello, Brittany," Arthur said.

Kiku nodded politely at her.

"A-ah, Mr. Kirkland, Mr. Honda." Brittany tugged at the collar of her black cape. "Do you need anything, or…?"

"Actually, according to Casey, _you_ are the one who needs help. And I couldn't agree more," Arthur said.

Brittany looked confused, glancing between Arthur and Casey until it hit her. "I suppose I should have known she'd try to 'help'," she said quietly. "She always did fret about me far too much… but really though, I'm fine."

Arthur sighed. "I understand the feeling of having to stay strong, for yourself and others. Believe me, I've felt that way for practically my whole existence. But after everything that's happened—the mansion, the cult, our weird adventure to another dimension—I've come to understand that there's a time and a place for that. Things are bad, yes, and it's important to keep moral up and not give in. But I believe being a little more vulnerable has its perks as well. You're very good at your job, Brittany, but it's obvious you're working yourself to the bone, especially now. If you won't calm down and take care of yourself, for yourself, then perhaps consider doing it for the people who care about you." Brittany's eyes wandered to Casey again. She was talking to the other countries, Gilbert in particular, then turning to the other cult members and asking questions or explaining something. Arthur followed her eyes. "Do you appreciate what she's trying to do for you, Brittany?" he asked.

"O-of course!" Brittany replied quickly. "It's just… she shouldn't have to put herself through that…"

"And you should?" Kiku asked.

Brittany drew her knees to her chest. "I just want this to be over. It's been wonderful, dangerous, I even found lo-, er, friends. But I know it won't end. Something will always go wrong, and I'll have to fix it over and over—"

Arthur set a hand on her shoulder and she flinched, looking up at him. "You're right. It may not end. But that doesn't mean you have to do all of this on your own. Don't you have a life outside the cult?"

"…I have school," Brittany said numbly after a beat.

"I see. Have you considered trying something in conjunction with that? And I know," Kiku raised a hand to stop her from speaking, "I know that is easier said than done. But like you said, you have friends in the cult, right? Why not try to interact with them sometime? You clearly have the ability to override time zones and all that. Why not give it a try?"

Brittany didn't say anything for a moment. Then she sighed. "I… suppose it wouldn't hurt to try… I'm just not used to this sort of thing."

"Kiku can talk to you about that," Arthur said lightly, pointing at his companion.

"Indeed. I did isolate myself for over two hundred years, as I'm sure you recall," Kiku said with a slight smile."

"Of course," Brittany said, breathing a laugh. "Who could forget _those_ episodes?"

"I have been doing research into the anime series we are in… I cannot help but feel some of the events of the dub are a bit… exaggerated."

"Well, yes." Brittany sat up a little straighter. "Given they're only five-minute episodes, they had to keep the jokes rolling a mile a minute, even if they weren't entirely accurate to the sub or the comic. I find that just makes the episodes funnier." To her surprise, Kiku let out a quiet laugh. Arthur looked cheerier, too. "…What is it?"

"I think you'll be fine with socializing, Brittany," Arthur said.

"Hai, I agree," Kiku nodded.

Brittany smiled and blushed slightly. "Thank you, sirs."

"Please, Brittany, you can use our first names," Arthur corrected. Again, Kiku nodded.

"…Okay," Brittany said with a hint of hesitance. "Thank you, Mr. Kir—I mean, Arthur and Kiku."

"You're welcome." They stood up, and Brittany was about to follow suit when Arthur held a hand to her. Thinking it would be rude to ignore, Brittany took his hand and let him pull her up.

"I believe we should rejoin the main group," Kiku said, pointing at everyone in the middle of the room. "We should see what they have discussed so far."

_The Artist's Point of View_

Honestly, The Artist would have probably sat against the wall and stewed until the end of time if someone didn't clear their throat loudly. She looked up, about to snap at them to go away when she saw who it was… aw, heck…

Feliciano and Lovino were standing in front of her, Lovino with his arms crossed and Feliciano with his hands on his knees, a concerned look on his face. "Ciao, bella," he said, a little less cheerfully than she had expected.

"…Hey," she said after a second.

"May we join you?"

"Why the heck are you asking, fratello?" Lovino shot him a look. "Casey said we'd sit with her, even if she said no, si?"

"Because it's polite, Lovino." Feliciano looked at his brother out of the corner of his eye.

The Artist sighed and patted the spots on the floor on either side of her. "Sure, have a seat. Just, no yelling, okay? I'm tired of yelling today."

"We're not yelling—" Lovino began, but his brother nudged him in the side and sat on The Artist's left. Lovino sighed and sat on The Artist's right. It was silent for a moment.

"Sooo… how are you, bella?" Feliciano asked.

"Not great." The Artist said shortly, resting her chin on her knees pulled up to her chest.

"You wanna talk about it?" Lovino asked.

"Not really." She couldn't see it, but the brothers were looking at each other for a moment before returning their gaze to the young woman.

"Why don't you tell us about The Author? How you met and stuff," Lovino suggested.

"What is this about?"

"Answer the question, bella." The Artist glanced at Feliciano in surprise. The concern on his face was a little sterner. While she kind of wanted to push them away, she also knew that they _were_ her favorite characters. Also, if The Author had been talking to her like this…

"Okay, fine," she said, leaning back and bumping her head lightly against the wall. "The Author and I met in kindergarten. We didn't really know each other, which made sense 'cause school was the only place we had ever met. There wasn't really any buildup or reason to it. We were sitting near each other, nervous as heck about school, when I turned to her and said, 'Hey, you wanna be friends?' And she was like, 'Okay.' And it sort of grew from there."

"Aw, that's cute!" Feliciano said happily.

"Si, it kind of is," Lovino agreed.

The Artist shrugged, blushing lightly. "I guess. I kind of feel like we're growing apart a bit, mostly because of graduating high school. She has college, I have work and a boyfriend… Sometimes she texts me to ask how I'm doing, but I'm usually so busy with those things that I can't answer right away. If either of us decides to text the other, it's probably her."

"Are you okay with that, ragazza?" Lovino asked.

"I mean… not really? But that's life for us, I guess. I saw her once at the beginning of summer… to introduce her to my new boyfriend…" She paused. "I might see an issue here."

"No kidding," Lovino said. The Artist and Feliciano shot him a look.

"He does make a point, though, bella." Feliciano returned his gaze to her. "Don't you ever wonder how she's doing?"

"If she really needs me, she usually texts me herself," The Artist said.

"Does she text you _every _time something happens?"

The Artist opened her mouth, then closed it. "…Maybe not."

"Can I ask what you usually talk or text about?" Lovino asked.

"Well, if she texts me a "how are you doing", I usually tell her pretty much everything that's going on in my life, mostly bad stuff. It's not like I don't ask how she's doing, too, it's just… I end up a bit preoccupied and… forget, sometimes."

"Bella… that's not healthy," Feliciano said. "I'm a little surprised she hasn't broken off with you yet, or you with her."

"Because I don't want to lose her!" The Artist cried quietly. "All these years, all the bad things that have happened to me, all the people who treated me like dirt because I was a little stubborn… she was the only one who stood by me. The only one who seemed to really care for so long. I don't want to lose that… and I don't think she does, either. I mean, she _knew_ people throughout school, but she didn't really _know _them, you know? Most of the time, her friends were my friends at some point. Even in college, I think Vet said she's kind of close to _some _people, but even then, they don't hang much. She mostly sits alone in her dorm room or at the library or at a table during lunch. I guess what I'm trying to say is… I don't want to lose her, and I don't think she wants to lose me. I want to be a better friend."

Feliciano and Lovino looked at each other again. After a moment, Lovino set a hand on The Artist's knee. "Ragazza… when we see her again—and we _will_—just talk to her. Si? And let her talk to you."

"Okay… okay." The Artist took a shaky breath.

Feliciano wrapped an arm around her. "You too, fratello."

Lovino sighed dramatically, but put an arm around The Artist as well.

"Guys, stop, you're g-gonna make me cryYyY…" She buried her face in her legs and cried quietly for a few minutes. The three of them sat there, the only three people in this world at that time. After a bit, The Artist raised her head and wiped her face. "Heh… sorry guys, I'm trying not to cry so much. Old habits die hard, I guess."

"Crying isn't such a bad thing, bella," Feliciano said. "I've cried so much during my existence."

"I just kind of got mad a lot," Lovino shrugged.

The Artist laughed a bit. "…Thanks, guys."

"Of course." They stood together and held a hand each to The Artist. She took them and let them hoist her to her feet.

"Let's go see what Casey's been up to," Feliciano said. "I think she's doing a good job keeping things running."

**_The Vet's Point of View_**

The Vet was glaring at a spot on the floor in front of her. Her thoughts were circling in her head like a broken record: _How-dare-she-where's-my-sister-I-need-to-find-her-I'll-make-her-pay-stupid-Onis-how-dare-she—_

"Guten Tag." The sudden deep voice broke her from her thoughts and she looked up to see… oh, Jiminy Christmas…

"Hallo," she replied to Ludwig. Huh. Despite knowing he was real for so long, she had never really talked one on one with him, which was technically by Brittany's rules: no one cult member should be with the countries one on one, to be fair to everyone and avoid favoritism. "Moechten Sie sitzen?" She asked politely, patting the floor on her right.

"Ja, danke." They sat there for a moment, not looking at or talking to each other at all. The Vet was almost about to go back to her inner steaming when Ludwig finally spoke: "So... you like me? Only me?"

"...What?" Vet was perplexed. Then, she noticed him looking at her clothes in particular. "Oh, yeah, the clothes... I mean, yeah. I like you as a character. You're probably not a bad person in real life, though I wouldn't know, since we've never properly spoken."

"I have always wondered about that," he said absently.

"You mean Brittany didn't tell you?" Ludwig gave her a confused look, so she continued: "One of the things Brittany told us was that no one should be alone one on one with the countries. Avoiding favoritism or something like that."

"The Author was with us for two whole days."

"Yeah, and she kind of got scolded for it. Even though it wasn't in her _control_..." She grumbled this last part to herself, but Ludwig still heard.

"I see..." Ludwig seemed thoughtful, in that always-serious way of his. "Perhaps we should clear things up with Brittany. The countries and I, I mean."

"You do you, man. Just, uh, don't tell Brittany I told you, okay? I don't need her flying off the handle at me, the little—"

"A-_hem._"

"Sorry, sorry. It's just so... _annoying,_ to put it lightly. Everything's annoying..." she drew her knees to her chest.

"Every time I have seen you, you've been a generally angry person. At your sister, at Brittany... You need to stop being so angry all the time."

"Hello, Pot, I'm Kettle," she said sarcastically. "And I'm not always angry, it's just that we keep meeting at bad times."

"Listen, Frau Kessel, I've been an 'angry person' for most of my existence, and if I've learned anything during that time, it's that being angry doesn't always help. When us countries were trapped in the mansion, we argued all the time. It was a force of habbit. But once we calmed down and listened to each other, we started to get closer than we ever had to escaping. That is how we formed our alliance."

The Vet glanced up at him. "I always was kinda curious about how that went over with your leaders or whatever."

"You are avoiding the topic." Ludwig scolded. "Also, zum Teufel mit ihnen."

Vet choked and covered her mouth. "Can't say I ever expected _you_ to say that.

"The topic at hand?" Ludwig snapped his fingers a few times.

"Right, right, sorry. But I'm being honest, I'm not usually so mad. It's just with my sister being kidnapped and disapearing all the time—"

"It has happened twice."

"For several days each time!" She snapped. "And I can't tell anyone in my life because it sounds like a bunch of random stuff I dreamed about, and no one would believe me. Why would they? They'll just think I'm crazy and ignore me or send my to a psychologist and they'll try to convince me I'm making it all up! And what if they succeed? What if _I_ start thinking I'm crazy? That Author just died in a car accident while at college or something? Or—"

"Stop and breathe," Ludwig said firmly.

"But—"

"That's an order."

The Vet gave him a watery side glare, but did as she was told. In. Out. In. Out.

"Gut. Jetzt hoer mir zu."

"Ich bin."

"I can't use magic to see the future, or however it is it works with the cult. I can't guarentee everything will be alright. But if we sit here whining or rush in blindly with anger, I can at least guarentee that the chances of saving The Author will be slimmer. Do you understand?"

"Yes... sir."

"There is no need for that. We're supposed to be... friends, not superiors and inferiors."

"Okay then... Luddy."

"Do not call me that."

"Okay, okay, I won't." After a second, she leaned against his arm.

Ludwig froze. "Um—"

"It's not flirting, dumnkopf," she said. "I just need to sit for a second."

Gingerly, he patted The Vet's head a few times. A bit too roughly and heavily, but it was the thought that counted. After a moment, she sat up straight and Ludwig quickly smoothed out his clothes as he stood. Vet stood, too. "We shall go to the main group now, in case we need to be caught up on anything."

Vet nodded and followed him.

**_Regular Perspective (Technically Still The Vet, But Hey! Who's Counting?)_**

"So glad to see you all again, I am!" Casey beamed at the approaching group. The countries who had been away rejoined their group. Brittany, The Artist, and The Vet stood near Casey, who quickly wrapped Brittany in a tight hug. "Feelin better, love?" Vet heard her say quietly.

Brittany returned the hug. "Still a little nervous, but… not as much as before." After a second, she settled her forehead on the top of Casey's head. "Thank you, love."

"Retour au present, les amoureux," someone called, a young man dressed in Liechtenstein's uniform with the purple ribbon tied to his belt. Vet didn't know French, but the way France and some presumably French-speaking cult members started laughing, combined with how Matthew was desperately trying not to join them, gave The Vet an idea of what had been said. The same thought seemed to occur to Brittany and Casey and they quickly backed away from each other.

"_Very _funny, Alexandre," Casey said sarcastically. "If we can get back to the topic at hand?"

"Voilà ce que je disais!"

"Yes, yes, you're French, we get it. Anyway, Gilbert, would ya like to tell everyone again what our new plan of attack is?"

Gilbert nodded and addressed everyone, but mostly the five countries and the three girls. "So it might seem like the leads we had were a bust and we have nothing now, ja? But I believe we already had a lead from the beginning: the awesome ME!" He struck a pose and a few people laughed or clapped.

"As humble as ever, Bruder," Ludwig muttered.

"Ha ha, West, sehr komisch. Anyway, remember how I said I can sense The Author when she says 'awesome' or 'unawesome'?"

The Vet's eyes lit up. "That's right! You said you felt something again, didn't you?"

Gilbert grinned. "Das ist richtig! Though that was back at the mansion site. Now that we're here, I can sense it a little more clearly. So, if my awesome instincts are correct…" He strode out the square door shaped hole, followed quickly by everyone. He stood in the middle of the cobblestone and pointed down the street to the right of the door. "She's in that direction. It'll be a bit of a walk, but it shouldn't take more than an hour or two." He lowered his hand slightly. "I don't know if I should say this, but… I think we should get started right away. I can sense her more clearly, but it's not as… strong. Does that make sense?"

Brittany hummed, putting a hand to her chin. "That is a bit troubling… But you're right. We should get going right away! Of course, if everyone is ready…?" She looked at the people around her.

Someone stepped forward. Everyone's eyes turned to them. They looked slowly between The Vet, Brittany, and The Artist. Then, slowly, The Reader gave a thumbs up. Everyone cheered.

"That settles it, then!" Brittany stood tall, happier than The Vet had ever seen her, especially with Casey holding her hand. "Everyone: MOVE OUT!"

* * *

So, yeah! Some of the countries get a little more personal screen time. I kind of want to do this with the other countries to show that they're not stagnant, but probably not like this. Definitely more actions and dialogue, but not necessarily a feels jam for everyone. A certain country you'd like to know more about first? Do you have any ideas for how to best make the countries more prominent? I'm open to ideas, though I do already have plans for one of the countries. I wonder if you can guess which one…?

Now, as for what The Artist says… I can't honestly be sure if that's how she thinks, I was kind of projecting my feelings on the relationship into her perspective. Technically, you shouldn't put words in people's mouths, but if they're anonymous and not likely to read what you've written… well, that's the excuse I'm using. Just to be clear: I really do care for The Artist. She's my oldest friend and even though we rarely get to see each other or even text, I do enjoy her company when we do fun things like take walks or play videogames. So… yep.

Also, Alexandre! He first appeared in The Cult of Veneziano, but he never had a name or even lines… until now. He's much more serious then his dialogue here would make you think; his jab at Brittany and Casey was more sarcastic than teasing. Alexandre doesn't tease. He's a very serious boy with a marksman's aim (though honestly, in this cult, who doesn't?) and tends to be more of the quiet type, but the continued indirectness of Brittany and Casey's obvious feelings was getting on his nerves. (Don't worry, things will get a little more direct between the two soon. Not sure when, but soon.)

Also also, The Reader! Like I said, they first appeared in the first book, though they were only mentioned in passing, partially seen from across the way between a tent and a training arena. Their appearance and gender are vague, to fit any person into the role, no matter their identity or favorite character. I mean, if anyone was going to be invited into the cult, why not you? That's my logic, anyway.

Sooo what did you think? A bit of a cool down compared to last chapter, but well needed. I hope you liked it, so leave a review and tell me what you thought. I'll try to come back again soon. Until then!


	9. Being Calmed Before the Storm

Okay, so chapter-wise, this story might not necessarily be the longest one in the series, but wordcount-wise, I think it should end up being fairly formidable. We'll have to see though, it's yet to be determined.

Hooray! I finished my homework yesterday, so I have a good chunk of the week to do whatever I want! I might even write another chapter soon! It'll be the big one before the big one, if you get what I mean. I'll try to draw it out more, really build up the tension. I have some ideas, but I'll have to start writing it to be sure. Be prepared for a large step for someone… or rather, _two_ someones (wink wonk).

Now, the chapter before the last one was emotionally high. Technically, so was the last one. As the title of this chapter will tell you, though, it'll start all cheery… but then something happens… what could it be? You'll have to find out.

Also, if you ever get a chance to eat something called a "white rabbit candy", do it. They're like hard Tootsie Rolls made of milk and vanilla and covered with a thin amount of rice paper, and they are _excellent_. I first tasted them when my family was in Vancouver for part of the summer and we went to a Chinatown and had lunch and shopped around. I didn't actually like them at first, because the rice paper felt and tasted strange? But I got used to it and even though I rarely get to eat one, I highly recommend them.

Anyway, enough about me. See you at the bottom of the page!

* * *

Chapter 8: Being Calmed Before the Storm

The walk did take a while, probably closer to the two-hour end of Gilbert's prediction. However, it certainly didn't feel that way from The Vet's perspective. The mood of the group was much lighter than it had been earlier, and the countries seemed to be having conversations that most of the cult was listening in on to pass the time. Time is relative, and all that.

"Bin nur sagen, I think _I'm_ the favorite of our trio," Gilbert declared.

Francis laughed. "Please, mon amie, with _my _good looks and magnifique cuisine? I believe that _I_ am the favorite."

"But _I'm _the Empire Where the Sun Never Sets!" Antonio said in mock childishness. "Clearly that gives _me _an advantage, si?"

"Psh, non," Francis joked.

"Besides, your empire _did_ fall, so I think that doesn't count." Gilbert nudged Antonio in the ribs good-naturedly. "If we _really_ want to know, we could just ask the cult—"

"That's favoritism, wankers!" Brittany called before returning to her conversation with Casey, Ludwig, and Feliciano.

"She's no fun," Gilbert said lightly.

"She does have a point though, mi amigo. It wouldn't be fair to make the whole cult choose one of us," Antonio pointed out. "Besides, I don't think every cult member has an opinion on us besides 'they're okay, I guess'."

"They're missing out," Francis said.

"Definitely," Antonio and Prussia replied.

"I am only saying, my country is superior to _any_ Chinatown. That includes yours," Yao said, a smile on his face despite his arms being crossed.

"Well, do you have… white rabbit candies?" Matthew asked with a gleam in his purple-blue eyes.

"Of course I do!" Yao glanced at Matthew, who was leaning towards him. "Not on my person, of course, but I have them."

"Oh, maple," Matthew mumbled, but he kept his small smile up. "My turn. I'm just saying, my country has the best mountains in the world!"

Yao barked a laugh. "You would wish for that! Obviously, _my_ mountains are superior."

"My mountains are surrounded by crystal blue waters!"

"_My_ mountains are surrounded by the misty clouds, because they are so high up that they reach the gods!"

They glared at each other for three seconds before busting out laughing. "This is actually kind of fun!" Matthew said, lifting his glasses to wipe his eyes. "We really don't get to talk much, eh?"

"Shi! And to be truly honest, I do admire the waters around your mountains; they are quite lovely."

"I like your mountains, too. I know at least two animated movies that have your mountains in them; from big companies, too! They look so cinematic and impressive."

Yao nodded approvingly. "I would like to see an animated movie with your mountains and lakes as a background. Animated movies are the better kind of movie, wouldn't you say?"

"Definitely."

The Vet smiled at these little conversations. This was the most "normal" she had ever felt while doing cult stuff, and it was nice. She turned to ask The Artist if she had ever had the luxury of trying one of the rabbit candies Matthew had mentioned, when someone stepped between them and clapped his hands a little too hard on their shoulders. "Hey, dudes!" Alfred said cheerily.

"'Sup," The Artist replied.

"Checking in again?" Vet asked.

"Of course! You're my citizens, and I wanna make sure you're doing okay. So… how are you?"

Vet shrugged, but not hard enough to remove Alfred's hand from her shoulder. "Pretty much the same as last time you checked. I was mostly listening to the others talking. I had no idea you guys could be so… chill. Like, in the anime, you're all usually yelling and fighting and stuff."

Alfred let go of her shoulder to rub his neck. "Haha, yeah… we, uh, still kinda do that. Especially Arthur and Francis. Some things never change, I guess."

"Guess so," The Artist said, a bit of a far away look in her eyes.

Alfred patted her shoulder, a little more gently this time. "Still feeling down, huh?"

"…Kinda," she replied. "I mean, I guess I'm happier than I've been in a while? Everyone's just talking and walking and we're just hanging, but… I can't stop thinking about The Author. How we're gonna find her and all. And… what we'll do after we rescue her. Me and her, I mean."

"Well, you said Lovino and Feli told you to talk to her, right? Just do it, man!"

"Duh, I'm going to do that, it's just…" The Artist paused. "I want to do it right, but I'm not sure if I know how to, y'know?"

Vet hummed. "I think you should carry the conversation a bit, maybe ask questions and let her give as long an answer as she likes. Reply to any questions she has, obviously, but don't let it consume the conversation. Does that make sense?"

The Artist nodded. "That's kind of what Feli and Lovino said, too."

"I think that's a good start HOLY-COW-WHAT-IS-THAT?!" Alfred yelled, making the two girls cringe and step to the side. They looked up to see what he was pointing at.

"…Huh," Vet said. Everyone heard Alfred yelling and looked to him, turning their gaze and gasping at what was ahead of them… and above them.

The building was the largest in the city by far, surrounded by a round moat and raised up from the ground on a round piece of land. There was no grass on this raised land and the moat was a filthy black, but the building itself seemed to be in fine shape. It was also round, with a domed roof and several large entrances on all sides that didn't seem to be blocked by anything aside from not having ways to get to them. Vet glanced around and noticed that surrounding the moat was a circular sort of plaza, with cobblestone streets extending from it in front of the entrances. It was clear that this building—whatever it was—was the very center of the town.

"Would anyone like to identify what this is?" Brittany asked after a second. "Is it supposed to be a castle, or-?"

"Actually, I believe it is a citadel," Kiku piped up. "Though I have never seen one like this…"

"A Citadel of the Onis…?" Brittany pondered. Gilbert blinked. He could have sworn he just heard someone whisper "roll credits!", but it might've just been his imagination. "I suppose the question now is how we get in—" Brittany began.

"Stop," Ludwig said, holding up a hand. "We have been walking for approximately one hour, fifty-three minutes, and forty-five seconds—"

"Forty-four and a half seconds," Gilbert corrected.

"Ja, ja, danke. Anyway, the point is that we should rest before continuing the investigation. As much as I'd like to begin finding a way in immediately, I also know the importance of attending to personal needs. Thus, we shall rest our legs out here before focusing on the battle plan."

"That _is_ a good idea, Ludwig," Brittany nodded. "Alright, new plan: everyone take-five, we'll reconvene in… how does twenty minutes sound?" A few cult members cheered. "Good. Don't wander too far, and remember the time limit!"

The group began to break off into small groups. The Artist turned to The Vet and said, "Hey, I think I'm gonna talk to Francis for a bit."

Vet raised an eyebrow. "Why Francis?"

"Well, he's supposed to be good with relationships, right?"

"Yeah, _romantic_ relationships."

"Friendship is a kind of romance, too!"

"If you're a Homestuck, sure. I'm not following."

"I'm just saying, since Author and I are moirails, maybe he could help me know how to be a good friend? I don't exactly have the best track record with friends, you know."

"Believe me, I know all too well." Vet sighed. "Okay, you go do that, then. I'm gonna talk to…" she looked around at the groups. Some cult members were talking with their favorite countries, some had split into close friend groups… but there was one person who seemed to be by himself. And he didn't look happy. "…Ivan. I think I'll talk to Ivan."

"Huh?" The Artist looked over The Vet's shoulder to see the tallest country. "Why Ivan-? Oh. Yeah, go talk to him. See you in twenty."

"Later." Vet waved and made her way to Ivan. He was standing off to the side, away from the other groups. He wasn't smiling, but as The Vet got closer, she could see it wasn't because he was angry. He looked almost… scared? "Hey," she said quietly, but he still jumped and looked at her with big purple eyes.

"…Ah. Vet. Privyet. Do you need something from me, or…?"

"Actually, it looked like _you_ needed something. Why're you standing all by yourself? I'm sure some of the cult members would love to talk to you."

Ivan shuffled awkwardly. "It is… not that I would not like to speak with them, it is just… I am not sure if this is something I should say in front of a large number of people, da?"

Vet looked at him curiously. "Something personal, huh? Like a crush?"

He looked at her in annoyance. "I do not crush people anymore. I am doing my best to not hurt my friends. I do not believe that I am having to explain this to you."

"Not what I meant," Vet said quickly. "Why don't you tell me what it is? We can figure out what to do from there."

Ivan paused. "I… I suppose that could be an option… I am just worried about… 'that thing' overhearing, da?"

_That thing…?_ The Vet thought. _Oh… _that_ thing._ She glanced around the area. It didn't _seem_ to be around, but that didn't mean anything when it popped in and out of sight whenever it pleased. She hummed, then gestured towards the street next to the one they had been walking along. "Let's try to talk about it away from everyone. It might be safer."

"…Very well." Ivan nodded and walked with her to the street corner. Once there, he pulled out his cellphone and tapped the screen a bit. "When you were playing the, ah, 'game', tell me: how much did you see? Or hear?"

"Well, to be honest, I didn't actually play the game, I just watched a few let's plays. But if it has to do with your cellphone, then… I think I remember something about a one-sided phone call…"

"Da," Ivan said. "I had a conversation with someone, but I wasn't sure who that voice was at the time. I never told anyone about it because I did not think it would matter anymore, but I did not delete it for some time. But I am thinking I now know the speaker. Listen." He turned on the speaker and clicked an icon of a recorded message. Vet listened carefully:

"What took you so long?" Ivan's voice asked in annoyance. "What have you been doing?"

"I was just curious as to how you were harassing Italy Veneziano like I asked," A staticky voice that sounded barely familiar said coolly. "Or has he been harassing you…?"

"What? Harrassed?" Ivan's voice asked.

"I'm simply asking for someone…"

"Just tell me already. Do you want to cooperate with me or not?

"Actually, it is _you_ who will cooperate with _me._"

"What the heck?"

"Must I repeat the deal? Get Italy Veneziano alone, and then he will be—"

"I don't care."

"Evidently."

"Where are you right now?"

"Same place as always. I'd be out sooner if you'd all stop trying so hard to survive."

"We are making progress, aren't we? And why can I hear a voice?"

"Not the kind of progress _she_ wants, but yes… progress. As for the voice… another piece of the plan. Her way of convincing you. It was easy enough for me to get into your head."

"…Why would you do that?"

"Because I _work _for her. I thought that was obvious."

"I can't believe it."

"I can't believe it took you this long to figure that out. Don't you find it weird how everything seems to be going the right direction for you all?"

"I did find it weird."

"…However?"

"Playing tricks like this…"

"Um…" a faint voice that was unmistakably Matthews could be heard. Ivan's voice gasped and the recording stopped.

"…That isn't who I think it is, is it?" Vet asked slowly.

Ivan nodded and put his phone away. "That is not the first time it had called me, but that was the only message I recorded."

"What was this 'deal' about Feli?" Ivan hesitated. "Ivan?"

"It… wanted me to get Feliciano away from everyone and lead him into a trap. Then I would… leave him there. To die."

Vet's heart dropped. "But… you didn't… right?"

Ivan sighed and hung his head. "I am ashamed to say I almost did. Before we formed our human alliance, things like world power were still on my mind. I was promised to be the only surviving country, along with my sisters, and we would control the masses as we saw fit, without our leaders getting in the way. I immediately abandoned the plan once our alliance was formed, but that doesn't change the fact I considered it." He looked away from her, head still bent. "I… will be understanding if everyone thinks less of me for it. Even in this alliance of friendship, I am the bad one."

The Vet took a shaky breath and touched his arm. He looked at her in surprise. "The important thing is, is that you didn't go through with it. You did the right thing. You're going to have to tell the others, but I think they'll understand in time."

"'In time'," Ivan repeated with a breathy laugh. "That is how it always is for me."

"And always will be, dude." The two jumped and turned towards the path extending from the citadel. It was still smiling, but much more menacingly. "They'll _never_ forgive you. But you don't need to worry about that…" Vet pulled out her pistol and Ivan gripped a metal pipe he'd had under his coat like a baseball bat.

It began to bubble and morph, turning from the little-ish white blob with a face into something with arms, legs, and a terrible smile on its face. "**Because you'll all soon be DEAD."**

* * *

(To the tune of the bridal march) Here comes the storm~!

So another unresolved plot point of the original game is revealed: Ivan was talking on the phone with Mochi America, who is working for a certain someone we've only heard the voice of! What was going to happen to Feliciano after he was alone? If you've read the other books, you could probably make a pretty good guess, especially the second book. Poor Feli… it'll only get worse for him from here, not to spoil too much.

There's another plot point of the original game that will be unveiled in the beginning of the next chapter, something that will only make sense if you've played/watched someone play all the way to the end of the known game. What could it be…? You'll have to wait and see-eee~!

I managed to come up with a plan on how to get you, The Reader, to learn what the other countries are like. I think I did pretty well! I don't know if Matthew and Yao have ever really interacted in canon before, or if they did, it was very minor and I don't remember. I think they'd like to compare their cultures and share their interests in animated movies. Poor Ivan, though…

What _will_ the Mochi America turn into? Who _is_ it working for? What _is_ the big step two people will take? Find out next time, in "The Citadel of the Onis"! Also, the "roll credits" was _technically_ The Author, but that was more me and not her, if you follow me. Anyway, see you later, probably pretty soon! Until then!


	10. Being Manipulated

I was originally going to include a long, extended fight scene, but then this idea came into my head and it kind of took over? But I think this might be better than a fight scene emotion-wise. Because _wow_ is it intense. Probably the most intense thing I've physically written. Hopefully, the one I've been hyping up will be even more intense than this one and you'll be just like AAAAAH *dead*

That's my hope, anyway.

Get ready for a poorly rendered French accent; if you need me to translate what it says, feel free to ask. Oh, and remember that "step" for two characters I mentioned last time? Be prepared… for _feelings._ And also that plot point from the game. I hope you enjoy this; I literally worked all day on it. See you at the bottom of the page.

* * *

Chapter 9: Being Manipulated

_Well, frick._

This was the thought going through The Vet's head as Mochi America's "body" continued to morph. Surprisingly, it didn't grow as large as she expected; instead, it was maybe a little under six feet tall, forming a sturdy torso with arms and legs. Its face became more defined, with a strong jaw line and narrow eyes. A shape formed on the top of its head, almost like some strange hat. Once its body was formed, it changed colors, turning the legs black and brown, then the arms turned black and the hands were a peachy color. Its torso was also black, aside from a white shape near its throat. Its face was the same peach color as its hands, and the "hat" turned black with a gold trim. Its narrow eyes were now a striking blue—wait.

_It wouldn't._

The body began to change again, going from a static character model to something with depth. Its legs formed slightly puffy black pants tucked into knee high brown boots. Its arms and torso wrinkled slightly, like a long-sleeved black shirt, with a white ascot billowing from the original triangle shaped white spot. A black cape spilled from its shoulders, covering its upper arms and flowing to its boot tops. Slick blonde hair was now visible under its hat. Yep. It was really gonna try and pull this stunt, huh?

The Holy Roman Empire stood before Ivan and The Vet. Its terrible smile slowly shifted into a more polite one, if still very cold. It tipped its hat to them, and The Vet noticed how it lifted the back of its hat, which kept its forehead covered, rather than lifting the whole hat like most people would.

"Hello there," it said. Its voice was no longer a squeaky, annoying impression of Alfred, but a deeper voice with a strange accent The Vet couldn't identify but still recognized. Before she or Ivan could say anything, it turned towards the larger group still far from where the three of them stood. It made a step in that direction—

Without putting much thought into it, The Vet aimed and shot her pistol. She didn't expect the bullet to hit it; it was supposed to be something of a warning shot, maybe to call for assistance. However, it went straight for the impersonator.

Almost too fast to be seen, it turned its body towards her and grabbed the bullet out of the air. Its hand morphed around, as if it were made of the same stuff as the Autons coming from the Nestene Consciousness from Doctor Who. Just as quickly, it threw the bullet back at the Vet with the same speed it had been fired with, straight at her head. She barely had time to gasp before Ivan stepped in front of her and swung his pipe, connecting with the bullet with a loud _CLANG!_ The bullet whistled into the sky and was gone.

_Wow…_ The Vet thought, looking at Ivan's perfectly undamaged metal pipe. _I guess _that's_ the power of the nations, huh?_ Her thoughts were cut short when she heard people, lots of people, running in their direction. This would be awkward unless she could convince the others of what this thing was. It couldn't be hard, right? The Holy Roman Empire just appearing like this was too convenient; _everyone_ would see through it… right?

"What was that noise?!" Brittany shouted at the head of the group, followed quickly by Casey and the countries. "Vet, why did you shoot your pistol? Is there something—what in the…?"

"Non può essere…!" Feliciano's voice was quiet, but everyone heard it. He stepped slowly towards what he thought was an old friend. "Holy Rome…?" He whispered.

"Holy Rome" smiled more softly at Feliciano, though Vet could see a strange glint in its eyes. "Hello, Italy."

"How is this possible?" Casey asked Brittany without looking away.

"I… don't know," Brittany replied, also not looking away. "He _did_ appear in the game… could it be something from _them?_"

"Maybe it's a sign of somethin' happenin'? I can't seem to… feel anythin' about it…"

"IT'S NONE OF THOSE THINGS!" The Vet yelled, re-aiming her gun at "Holy Rome".

Everyone's eyes immediately landed on her, along with a chorus of "What are you doing?!"'s and "Put your gun down!"'s. Once again, Feliciano's voice cut through the crowd: "Vet," he asked softly but sternly, a strange combination that almost made The Vet lower her gun in shame. She didn't, though. "Why are you trying to hurt him? Don't you know who he is?"

Vet swallowed down the last feelings of undeserved guilt looked at Feliciano out of the corner of her eye, never turning her gun away from "Holy Rome". "More importantly, I know _what_ it is! Can't you see this is too convenient? It's the-?!" She dropped her gun and fell to her knees, her throat closing in on itself as if a thousand bullet ants had crawled into her mouth and bitten her trachea to the point of swelling it shut, though not as painful as that scenario probably would have been. Still hurt like heck, though. She clawed at her throat, gasping and coughing desperately to breathe any amount of air she could get.

"Are you alright?" "Holy Rome's" voice asked her. She tried to glare at him, but couldn't meet his face with how hard she was gagging. She could feel someone touching her shoulders, trying to support her from falling flat on her face. The hands (she assumed they were hands) were large, firm, and strong; perhaps _too_ strong under normal circumstances. Ivan.

"Cripes, Vet, what's wrong?" She could hear Brittany ask, getting closer as she seemed to be hurrying towards her.

"We need a medic!" Casey's voice followed.

The Vet could feel just the slightest amount of air enter her lungs. She had to try again. "It's-!" She doubled over despite Ivan's attempted assistance, coughing all the worse. If her face had been red before, it was probably turning purple now. Her ears were ringing. Her tongue felt like it would fall out of her mouth any second. Her vision was darkening. The voices around her started to sound tinny.

"Ar… healing ma… STAT!" someone was shouting. Someone put their hand on her head, and she could feel _something_ trying to pulse into her, fighting a hard fight against whatever was keeping her from breathing. The pulsing feeling seemed to be doing at least a little for her. Her vision and hearing were clearing, and her face was probably changing back to a deep red from its previous shade of death purple.

She could also feel a little more oxygen coming in. "…!..._!..._" She couldn't force her words out, she just needed to _breathe_.

"Vet, don't talk," she heard Brittany say near her ear. "Deep breaths now, come on—IVAN, WHAT ARE YOU _DOING?!"_

Vet managed to raise her head high enough to see Ivan bringing down his pipe on "Holy Rome", only to be stopped by Feliciano. He was holding Ivan's pipe in place with his bare hands, which seemed to surprise the countries as much as anyone else. Ivan was shoved away.

"Ivan." Everyone stepped back a pace. This was probably the most genuinely angry anyone had ever heard or seen Feliciano. His brown eyes were narrowed, almost sparking with rage. His fists were down by his sides and shaking. His breathing was heavy. In a not-funny-at-all manner, steam was coming out of his ears like in a dramady anime episode. "Why are you attacking him? Don't you know who he is? Don't you know who he is to _me?"_ Feliciano blushed ever so faintly at this last question. All the cult members knew why. Some of the countries did, too.

"Because it—"

"HE." Feliciano snapped. "HE is the Holy Roman Empire."

"…Fine. 'He' is not who he says he is. The Vet and I saw him change into this shape."

"Change from what into this shape?" Yao asked.

Ivan opened his mouth to speak, then glanced at The Vet. She was slowly but surely winning the fight within her now, but her breathing was still janky with a few chokes mixed in. "I am having the feeling that if I try to say, I will end up like her." He nodded towards her.

"…Do you know why he 'changed shape'?" Casey asked.

"Because it was listening in on me and The Vet talking…"

"About what?" Kiku prompted.

"I…" Everyone was staring at Ivan now. He glanced again at The Vet, seeming to silently ask her for advice.

"…Trial by fire, Ivan," The Vet managed before coughing again, though less intensely this time.

Ivan took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, turning to meet Feliciano's eyes. "The Vet and I were talking about a phone call I received during the last time loop in the mansion. Matthew, do you remember?"

Matthew furrowed his brow… then blinked in remembrance. "I do remember! In the bathroom in the safehouse, eh?"

"Da."

"It, um… sounded pretty suspicious."

Ivan nodded solemnly. "It sounded that way because it was that way. I was talking with someone who had called me before. I was being offered a deal."

"…What was the deal?" Lovino asked suspiciously.

"I would have the power to rule the world with my sisters; no other countries, no leaders, no opposition, but only if I… created a situation that would end with Feliciano… being killed by the Oni he made a deal with." Everyone gasped in horror. Ivan continued to keep eye contact with Feliciano, but his neutral expression wavered. "I can prove this deal was real. I know whose voice was speaking with me all this time. When you hear its voice, you will know who 'he' is." He pulled out his smartphone again and turned the volume up as high as it could go. He then pressed an icon on the screen and held it out for everyone to hear. The Vet tried to keep her shaky breaths quiet so everyone could hear.

"What took you so long?" Ivan's voice began. "What have you been REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-"

Everyone jumped and covered their ears at the horribly loud screaming sound. Ivan began to tap the screen in frustration. "Nyet, nyet, nyet!" He hissed. "Ne seychas, glupaya veshch'—" The screen shattered with a small explosion of smoke, forcing Ivan to drop the sparking remains of his phone on the ground. The sound finally stopped. Everyone stared at the phone for a few seconds before slowly returning their gaze to Ivan. "I-it was there!" He cried desperately. "Why would I be telling you this if it weren't the truth?!"

"He has a point, guys," Matthew said slowly. "Why would he make something like this up? It'd only ruin his reputation with us. Besides, I was there when he had the conversation on the phone. I didn't hear the other voice, but it sounded pretty serious on Ivan's part. Also, if he and The Vet were listening to the message before, why would it suddenly break, especially now of all times?"

"Bro, are you… _defending_ him?" Alfred asked in disbelief.

"I-I just want to be logical here—"

Everyone could feel the emotions going higher and higher. If something didn't happen, it would escalate to a full-on war, right there in front of the cult. And the members might have had to pick a side—

"Excuse me," an unusually calm voice said. Everyone stopped and turned to the voice. It was "Holy Rome". "I understand that you are all upset—especially you, Italy—but I don't know what this has to do with me." He gave Feliciano a small smile. "You understand, right, Italy?"

Feliciano blushed a little more as he slowly nodded. "Of course, Holy Rome," he said quietly. "Holy Rome" pressed his hat a little further onto his head. His _forehead_ in particular, Vet realized. If the front of its hat had been pulled any further over its forehead, it would have looked ridiculous. _But why its forehead?_ There was something about its head it wanted to hide, and everyone was too emotional and distracted to notice. Except her, somehow. She tried to think of why. It had done when it first materialized, she recalled. Something about its eyes was off, too. They looked exactly like the real Holy Rome's eyes, but there was an almost mischievous gleam in it, kind of like Mochi America's—

Wait. Was that it…? Despite being a near identical copy of the fallen empire, something about it was distinctly… American. The gleam in its eye, the way it had its legs apart in an almost cocky way… all that was missing was… It clicked. This had to be the answer. Lord, _please_ let it be the answer.

"HAT!" She shouted with as much force as she could. "CHECK UNDER ITS-!" She began to choke again, even worse this time. Since she had been expelling air by shouting, she had even less breath to spare. She couldn't even cough at this point; she simply made dying sounds and jerked weakly every so often. People began shouting again: some in panic, some in anger, some in a mix of the two.

BANG!

Everyone yelped in surprise at the sound of the gun going off. The only reason The Vet didn't was because her lungs could finally inflate properly. She rolled onto her back, gasping in as much air as she could, in case it was taken away from her again. Her eyes were wide open, though she wasn't really looking at anything in particular. Then she heard Feliciano shout. "Artist?! WHY WOULD YOU-?!"

"Look," The Artist said quietly. The Vet managed to turn her head to see her sister's friend holding her assault rifle in one hand and pointing ahead of her with the other. The Vet rolled onto her side to see what everyone was staring at. It was clear as day: a single blond hair curl at the right middle of Holy Rome's—or rather, Mochi America's—hairline.

"Holy Rome…?" Feliciano asked shakily. It sounded as if he were about to cry.

Mochi America didn't respond at first. Then, it breathed a laugh. "I suppose that's what I get for being in one form for so many time loops."

"Then… back then… that was _you_?"

"Mm. And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn't for you and your meddling cult—"

"DO NOT MAKE A JOKE OUT OF THIS!" Feliciano roared. He yelled a battle cry and ran at the impersonator… without a weapon.

"Feli, NO!" Ludwig shouted. "Not with your _fists_, you—"

The Vet watched as Feliciano tried to throw a punch. Mochi America caught it, and, as if he was indeed made of some alien plastic, stretched his arm like a danger noodle and lifted Feliciano up by his fist, and then slamming him hard into the ground. Feliciano tried to get up, but was unable to lift himself, holding one side of his lower rib cage with one hand. Mochi America was in front of him in one single step. It lifted one of its knees above his head, and his lower leg morphed into a sharp stake.

In the split second before it dealt what would definitely be a deadly blow, The Vet grabbed her pistol, still somehow right beside her despite her fit, and shot at the impersonator. It was poorly aimed, given that she was lying down and her whole body was shaking with exhaustion, but the bullet did what she needed it to do. Mochi America was caught by surprise as the bullet hit its side, forcing it to stumble away from Feliciano. Ludwig and Lovino quickly and carefully lifted Feliciano to his feet and pulled him to a safer distance.

The impersonator returned its leg to its original shape before setting it back onto the ground slowly. It turned its gaze around the group, settling on The Vet. It shook its head slightly. "You're all so DETERMINED to keep him alive, aren't you? Why? A deal is a deal, you know. He must pay."

"'Is 'deal' was that 'e'd keep goin' through the time loops until either 'e escaped with everyone _or_ 'e got killed. 'E won, there is nothin' for 'im to pay for!" Casey yelled, standing up defiantly.

"Don't be rash, Casey," Brittany said through barely restrained anger towards the creature. "…Oh, what am I saying. Let's kill that wanker." Everyone who could raised their weapons towards it. It positioned itself into a battle stance of its own, and everyone prepared for a long, hard battle.

It seemed it was about to pounce when it paused, tilting one side of its head up, as if listening for something. After a second, it lowered its head, muttering something that, for some reason, Vet thought sounded like "dangit, mom," though it was probably less family friendly than that.

It sighed and straightened again, adjusting its ascot and giving everyone a casual smile. "It seems this score between us will have to wait," it said. "I've been summoned. It seems _her project_ is nearly complete, though a piece is missing. She already has a plan to get what she needs; I just have to initiate it. And thus…" He scanned the crowd, seeming to land on Casey.

Before Brittany could step in front of her, Mochi America jumped into the air and flew at Casey, grabbed her by the collar of her dress and dragged her towards the citadel. Halfway to the closest entrance, he dropped her unceremoniously into the moat. Her cry of surprise was cut short as she disappeared under the black water. Mochi America laughed darkly as he flew through the entrance and was out of sight.

Brittany was the first to shake off her shock. "CASEY!" She yelled, sprinting to the edge of the moat, followed by everyone else. The Artist slung her gun on her back and helped The Vet stand up, pulling her as quickly as Vet could handle to the rest of the group. Brittany was kneeling by the edge of the moat, calling for Casey desperately. "Please, oh _please_ answer me…" she was saying.

Suddenly, Casey popped up to the surface, coughing on whatever was in that murky water. "Brittany?!" She managed after a second.

"Casey!" Brittany cried. "I'm up here! Are you alright?!"

Casey wiped some of the water out of her eyes and looked up the steep wall on Brittany's side of the moat. "I'm fine," she called. "It's just cold and disgusting in here. Lend a 'and?"

Brittany reached into her pocket, but instead of pulling out her book, she drew out a large coil of rope. _How did that fit in there?_ Is what most people probably would have thought had the situation not been extremely high stakes. She unfurled it until the end flopped into the water at the base of the wall, then stood and took hold of her end of the rope, bracing herself. "Swim to the rope and climb up!"

"On it!" Without dipping her head beneath the water, Casey breast-stroked to the rope.

She was maybe a few feet from the rope when Brittany began instructing her again. "Okay, you're strong, so climbing this shouldn't be a problem. Just remember to use both your arms and your legs and-CRIPES-CASEY-THERE'S-SOMETHING-IN-THERE-WITH-YOU!"

"What?!" Casey looked behind her just as she grabbed the end of the rope. Something large and gray was swimming towards her, just under the water, and raising its almost whale shaped head above the surface and slightly opening its mouth, which was presumably full of teeth. "AAAAAAAAH!"

Brittany immediately shoved her end of the rope into nearest person's hands, who happened to be Alfred. "Don't let go," she said, taking two steps back.

"Dude, what are you-?"

"HAAAAAH!" Brittany yelled as she jumped over the edge of the moat.

"WH-?!" Alfred quickly widened his stance to brace himself for the hopeful weight of two girls climbing. He then leaned forward slightly and yelled, "YOU KNOW, FOR A HOITY-TOITY ENGLISH GIRL, YOU'RE PRETTY FREAKING STUPID!"

"HYAH!" Brittany landed feet first on top of the monster's head, slamming the heels of her boots right in the middle of its skull. It roared and swam away a bit, making Brittany topple backwards on top of Casey.

They came to the surface almost as soon as they went under. Casey grabbed the rope with one hand and wrapped the other arm around Brittany's waist. "PULL UP!" She yelled. Alfred quickly began to hoist the two of them up, soon joined by other countries and cult members. They were back up on solid ground in a matter of a minute or two. Vet was close enough to peek over the edge. The monster was facing where the girls had just been, emitting a low growling sound before sinking beneath the surface and out of sight.

Brittany groaned and pushed herself up. "Ugh, that was far too disgusting. What the bloody heck _is_ that water? Can it even be _called_ water?" She flicked a hand and two a handkerchief appeared in her and Casey's hands. Brittany wiped her face clean, Casey silently doing the same. "So, are you alrigh-ghk!"

Casey had turned towards her and grabbed Brittany by the collar of her jacket, yanking her to her feet so they were both standing. "ARE YOU OUT A YOUR FLIPPIN' MIND?!" Casey yelled in her face.

"W-what?!"

"YOU COULDA GOTTEN YOURSELF _KILLED_, YOU IDJIT!"

"YOU COULD HAVE, TOO! WHAT, DID YOU EXPECT ME TO LEAVE YOU RIGHT THERE?!"

"A COURSE NOT, BUT I EXPECTED SOMETHIN' SMARTER FROM YA!"

"LIKE WHAT, PRAY TELL?!"

"I DUNNO, SOMETHIN'! DO YA 'AVE _ANY_ IDEA HOW STUPID THAT WAS?!"

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT'S 'STUPID'? SOME BLOODY CREEP DROPPING YOU IN A MONSTER FILLED 'MOAT' JUST FOR THE HECK OF IT!

"I AGREE, THAT'S BLOODY STUPID!"

"YEAH!"

"_YEAH!"_

"Oh. Mon. DIEU!" Someone yelled.

Brittany and Casey turned to the source, Alexandre. "WHAT?!" They yelled.

To most people's surprise, he began to speak in English with an extremely heavy French accent: "Vould you two juste _smooche_ al-raid-y? Zhe aud-ee-aunce iz _dy-eeng _for zome romantique ac-tshion!"

"SHUT UP!" Brittany yelled. "Don't tell me when to kiss my girlfriend!"

"…We're girlfriends?" Casey asked quietly.

"UM." Brittany seemed to realize that Casey had her hands on Brittany's shirt collar and she was holding Casey's shoulders and the two were standing _very_ close to each other and Brittany was suddenly _very_ interested in looking at anything that wasn't Casey. "Well-I-mean-um-I-mean-uh-if-you-want-I-mean—"

Casey moved her hands from Brittany's shoulders to the sides of Brittany's face. Brittany froze. "Follow my lead," she said, her face almost as red as Brittany's.

"…Okay," Brittany squeaked.

Casey moved slowly, closing her eyes and bringing their faces together. She paused with an inch between their noses, as if to allow Brittany to make the actual move. Sensing Casey's intent, Brittany fluttered her eyes closed and tilted her head to the side slightly, wrapping her arms slowly around Casey to cup the back of her head. She pressed her lips to Casey's.

As soon as they connected, everyone exploded. People were whooping and cheering, fist-bumping and high-fiving each other. Alexandre gave an exaggerated bow. The others who didn't do any of these things simply applauded excitedly, The Vet included. She could stand and breathe just fine now, but she figured it was probably better not to strain herself too much. She turned and saw the countries clapping as well, the less romantically inclined clapping politely and the rest clapping with much more excitement.

Casey and Brittany were still kissing, only parting ever so slightly for a breath before going back in. Brittany was running her hand through Casey's spiky black hair while Casey was stroking Brittany's cheek with her thumb.

"Okay, bellas," Feliciano finally laughed as everyone calmed down. "I think that's enou-MMPH?!" Everyone jumped and turned to Feliciano, Brittany and Casey parting and doing the same.

Feliciano was restrained by his arms and mouth, held by… who was that? The Vet, at least, couldn't tell who was holding him. They seemed to be a literal shadow, with defined, glowing eye shapes with no identifiable color. Ludwig and Lovino, who had been right next to Feliciano, tried to grab the shadow that had him, but the shadow swung one of their legs around in a circle, knocking them back. Lovino nearly fell into the moat, but was grabbed by some nearby cult members and pulled to safety.

Feliciano kicked at the shadow with his free legs, but they moved the arm around his waist to a spot on his ribs, making him gasp and stop struggling for a bit. The shadow turned their blank gaze directly to Brittany and Casey. "Carina," they said in an extremely distorted voice. "Ciao, idioti." There was a blinding light, and the two of them were gone.

…

Brittany slowly parted from Casey, one hand on her forehead and a look of horror on her face. "Brittany…?" Casey asked cautiously.

Brittany was stepping backwards slowly, not looking at anything. "I.. i-it's not your fault, Casey, it… I…"

"Brittany, listen to me, okay?" Casey held Brittany's free hand with both of hers. "Do _not_ blame yourself, alright? This is not our fault. This is not _your_ fault."

"Oui," someone said. The two turned to see Alexandre, looking horribly ashamed. "C'est de ma faute. Peut-être que si je ne vous disais pas d'embrasser…"

"Alexandre, if you're tryn' to say it's your fault, it's not—"

"Maybe if I didn't shoot the gun and tried to find another way…" The Vet said quietly.

"Vet—"

"Maybe if I had played the message in front of everyone…" Ivan said.

"Maybe if I'd shot it in the head…" The Artist wondered darkly.

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!" Ludwig yelled, forcing the whole group to go silent. "Look…" he took a deep breath. "This is… not anyone's fault. We were all distracted, and even if we weren't, something would have happened to make this a reality anyway. Remember what that thing said? It was told to 'initiate something, to get what 'she' needed. That means whoever 'she' is, needed Feli—Feliciano," he caught himself as Lovino shot him a look, "for some sort of 'project', ja?"

"Didn't that lady from the ball of magic say she was working on a project?" The Artist piped up. "Something to do with The Author…"

"Richtig. Und if I had to make a guess…" Ludwig pointed at the Citadel. "What _we_ need is in there. So Brittany, pull yourself together. Casey, stay strong. Vet, thank you for trying to tell us what was going on, even if it was killing you. Alexandre, thank you for… that… kissing thing. Artist, don't shoot anyone in the head unless we know for a fact it's a monster. Ivan…" He paused here. Ivan didn't meet his eyes. "Thank you for… trying to tell the truth. Once we're all safe, we'll talk about it in further detail."

Ivan looked stunned. "Spasibo..." he said quietly.

Ludwig nodded, then pointed to the nearest entrance. "There will likely be many monsters and dangers. I would suggest resting, but time is not on our side. Arthur and the other magic users: can you form a bridge to the entrance?"

"Absolutely." Arthur nodded. A large group of magic using members nodded as well. "To form an object without a magic circle or pre-made spell, you need to form a model of what you want in your mind," Arthur explained quickly. "The larger the object, the greater the power needed. Having more people perform the same spell has pros and cons. Pros: it can take less time and less power if done in sync. Cons: if the object model isn't nearly identical between each person, it won't work; or if it does, it'll be a grand mess. You lot already know this; I'm just explaining it for everyone else. Now, here's what we're going to make: a simple brown platform, as wide as the entrance and just longer than the distance between here and there to make sure it doesn't fall into the moat while we're on it. There are no markings; it's a plain board the same color as standard brown cardboard, but much stronger. Let's make it… .3048 meters thick. Er, one foot for you Americans. That should make it strong enough to hold us all as we cross at once. Is the image clear in your mind?" The group spoken to looked at each other, then nodded. "Good." Arthur raised his right hand in the direction of the entrance. "Now hold out your dominant hand—if you're ambidextrous, use both—and focus on the image in your mind. Don't get distracted, even if it sounds like a bomb exploding. Starting now…"

The group did as they were told, most closing their eyes in the process. The air quickly began to thrum with energy, growing more and more intense. For some reason, the sounds of placing a wooden block in Minecraft sounded through the air, in rapid succession, as the pieces of the board platform popped into place. The air stopped thrumming.

The board was a bit patchy in color and a little uneven, probably because not a lot of people knew what exactly .3048 meters looked like in real life. "It's perfect," Arthur said. "We'll make real warlocks out of you yet. Brittany, can you lead the charge now?"

Everyone turned to Brittany. The look of utter panic and despair was gone, and her stance was wide and sure. She raised her and Casey's clasped hands. "_We'll_ be leading the charge," She said. A quick round of cheers before everyone drew their respective weapons. "You know the line, Casey?" She asked as she let go of Casey and drew her katana.

Casey pulled her machine gun off her back and cocked it. "I've only heard ya recite in the mirror ten times, love."

"Ha bloody ha. On three?"

"One…"

"Two…"

"**Three**." They said together before lifting their weapons and shouting: "For the Earth, and Italia Veneziano! CHARGE!"

* * *

Hoo boy. Hoooooo boy. This might be one of the longest chapters I've ever written, though I won't know until I post it, I guess. How about those feelings? I can't hold all of these feelings; can you hold all of these feelings? Because I can't hold all of these feelings. Ahem, anyway.

The big plot point of the game revealed in this chapter: in the last part of the game, Feliciano gets injured and doesn't wake up. In his head, he wakes up in a field of flowers with his first kiss partner, The Holy Roman Empire, who died several centuries earlier. Holy Rome leads Feliciano into a mansion that looks just like the one he really entered, but something is different. Since we never get to see how that turns out, I imagine that in this story, Feliciano woke up as soon as the cult began attacking the mansion, jerking him away from whatever Holy Rome was planning. And it turns out… Holy Rome was an illusion created by 'her' to presumably get him killed. Mochi America, as we've been calling it, is a shapeshifting Oni that can speak English pretty well, as well as do great voice impersonations. Remember the three VFD's of disguise: Veiled Facial Disguises: changing the facial expression and ticks, hats optional. Various Finery Disguises: changing clothes, fairly simple. And Voice Fakery Disguises: changing some aspect of your speech, usually your voice pitch, sometimes an accent. Look it up if you don't know what I'm talking about. Boy that book series is a ride.

Poor Brittany and Casey, getting their first kiss used as part of a manipulation on the enemy's part. Still, it was a pretty good kiss, if I may toot my own horn a bit. I had my sister read over that scene since she knows more about relationships than I do, and she said it was good and believable. If I could have a more detailed description of what that scene made you feel, I'd greatly appreciate it.

Next time: The Big One. The thing I've been preparing for literally _years_. My first step in the direction of what kind of novels I want to write in the future. It might actually end up taking me more than a day to do; I want it to be perfect for you.

Anyway, what did you think? Leave a review, tell me, and I'll see you as soon as I can! Until then!


	11. Being Tormented

_**LOOK AT THIS LOOK AT THIS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**_

**THIS CHAPTER WAS BETA READ BY The ink stained poet! A HUGE THANK YOU TO THEM! THIS WOULD NOT BE AS GOOD AS I HOPE IT IS WITHOUT THEIR HELP! THANK YOU!**

**ALSO! THE DAY I'M POSTING THIS IS MY OLDER SISTER, THE VET'S, BIRTHDAY! SHE HASN'T REALLY READ MY WORKS, BUT IF SHE SOMEHOW FINDS THIS: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, VET!**

This is it. Years of work have led to this moment. Weeks of writing, editing, isolating, and editing again. All for this chapter. Easily my Fanfiction Magnum Opus, if I may be so bold. Also the longest chapter I've ever written. Like, this thing is longer than some of my stories in total. This thing is over eighteen thousand words, to give you a measuring tool. You might want to give yourself an hour to read this.

_**OH AND ONE MORE THING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**_

_THERE WILL BE A POLL POSTED AFTER THIS CHAPTER GOES UP! ONCE YOU'VE FINISHED READING, GO TO MY PROFILE (DESKTOP MODE, OTHERWISE IT WON'T WORK) AND FILL OUT THE POLL! YOU CAN CHOOSE UP TO TEN OF THE ANSWERS, DEPENDING ON WHAT THIS CHAPTER MAKES YOU FEEL! I WANTED TO BE AS THOROUGH AS POSSIBLE. ALSO LEAVE A REVIEW. THAT'D BE REALLY NICE._

One more warning: this chapter is easily one of the darkest things I've ever written. Remember The Author, The Rogues, and The Oni? Yeah, that's light reading compared to this. Buckle up.

And please... enjoy! (There will be translations at the bottom)

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Chapter 10: Being Tormented

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?

_…This is… unawesome…_

But for some reason, I didn't return to unconsciousness after that.

My eyelids were heavy. My body hurt, but not in a specific place; the dull pain went deeper than that, flowing through me. I was lying against something hard, cold, and a little uneven, like stone. I forced my eyes open after a few seconds. Sure enough, I was staring at the floor, which was made of rough, black stone bricks that matched the walls.

I braced my arms under myself and slowly pushed up into a slightly-raised-while-still-laying-down-position. I was in a small prison cell, facing a wall with a square hole in the middle for a window, with thick black bars keeping it from being a potential escape route. The light beyond lit the room within just enough that I could see the lines between the bricks, but the light felt… off. It was a dull, gray light, as if there were a heavy thunderstorm outside barely letting the sun seep through. There shouldn't have been anything off about it.

But there was.

Testing my strength, I managed to sit up and look around, ears ringing in the silence. There were four walls, all black brick, with the wall behind me featuring a black metal door with no discernible knob. My body felt weird; light and heavy at the same time, as if I were numb, yet could feel every bit of internal pain. My mouth was extremely dry and tasted like an obnoxious amount of salt, and I faintly smelled something metallic, especially closer to the floor. It was like someone had hastily tried to wipe whatever caused that smell off the floor without proper cleaning equipment.

I then tried standing up. It was a bit difficult, but I managed to do it. I felt the wobbliness of my legs fade as I shifted my weight from foot to foot, taking slow, cautious steps to the window.

If the light from the window I saw was the sky, then I must have been in a cloud. There was no ground, just the dark gray, barely illuminating my body. My body…

I looked down at myself. I was wearing what I had been before… this: a pair of flip-flops, a T-shirt, and a pair of shorts. There was something there that hadn't been, though. Two bracelets were on my wrists; thin gold bands, each with four dangling heart-shaped charms at the cardinal points with tiny green jewels at the center. They seemed just big enough to hang less than a centimeter off of my wrist, but too small to have been conceivably put on by normal means. Hmm…

I raised an arm in front of my face. Something about it was also off, yet familiar. I could see a slightly bold outline around its shape, and the color was a bit flat, almost like a paper drawing—wait.

Anime.

_Of course,_ I thought, rubbing my thumb against the palm of my hand. _I'm still in the anime dimension… thingy. Still don't know how that works. But if I was there before I was here, then what was I doing…?_ Something else was off though, and on instinct, I looked to my left arm. My elbow was wrapped in white bandages, making it a little hard to bend my arm all the way. I considered pulling them off, but that probably wasn't a good idea. I _did_ know that they hadn't been there before… before…

I gazed into the apparent sky, watching the strange floaters in my eyes bounce and slide around my vision and trying to think of what I had been doing. I was somewhere… with someone. No, _many_ someones. Most of them I knew, but some I had met there for the first time. And then we… we…

thump.

Thump.

THUMP.

I turned my head towards the door, holding the window bars as my anxiety increased. Something big was coming, and those footsteps were familiar in a terrible, _terrible_ way. The door slammed open.

"AAAAAAAAAAAH!" I screamed. It came back to me in an instant: the rouges, the mansion, the Oni. Oh, _no_, the Oni!

The large demon stumbled into the room—_It's so big how did it get in here the door is too small why is it here why is it coming towards me I need to escape—_

It was just like the ones I'd seen in that mansion: big, lumpy, and purple-y blue. Its uneven eyes seemed to light up when it saw me scream and press against the wall. Its arms were so long and its stance was so wide; there was no way I could slip around it.

_But I'll be darned if I don't try—_

Before I could think beyond that statement, it reached out a huge hand and wrapped me in its fist, my arms pressed tight to my sides and my screams muffled by its thumb covering my mouth and nose.

I struggled, still screaming and keeping my eyes shut tight as it started to move out of the room. I didn't know where we were going; only that it was going to violently maul me and then eat me and _I was running out of air—_

My struggles grew weaker. I stopped screaming. The reddish light I could see from behind my eyelids was rippling into black. I was going to die.

Suddenly, the pressure around me released, and I fell for a full second before hitting the ground painfully. My bones didn't seem to be broken, but it was hard to tell with how hard I was trying to regain oxygen. I coughed and gasped noisily, fluttering my eyelids in an attempt to see where I was with each desperate breath.

Eventually, it slowed to the point I was just taking deep breaths in quick succession, and I could open my eyes fully. The floor was now a shimmery golden color, very smooth and marble-like, and seemed to go on forever. I was sprawled out on my stomach, slightly curled in on my side, and very scared.

It took me a second to realize that there was another sound, as if someone were speaking random sounds. _Familiar_ random sounds.

I cringed as there was a loud series of thumps behind me, growing fainter as if it were leaving the room. I slowly pushed myself to my knees and made to stand—

"Oh, stay like that, won't you? I find you kneeling before me… **fitting**."

I froze. I knew that voice. More importantly, I knew what that voice could do. More memories came back: the movie theater; the back room; a whispering, trilling sound; taking someone's hand. "…Materna?" I looked up.

Materna smiled down at me, looking exactly the same as she did when we first met. Pale skin; bare feet; a thigh-length white dress with long, flowing sleeves and an unnecessarily low-cut front; long, silver hair; and purple eyes. Why couldn't I remember where I had seen those eyes before? "Ah, you remember me. How delightful. It **has** been a while since I've seen you awake."

I furrowed my brow in confusion. "It… hasn't been that long… has it?" It couldn't have been that long since I took her hand and lost consciousness. We were both still wearing the same clothes, and time was relative, so while it _felt_ like I'd been unconscious for a while, it couldn't have been _that_ long… could it?

Materna chuckled softly, and I could hear more malicious snickers behind me. A lot of them. I turned to look when Materna stepped closer to me, regaining my full attention. "You must have many questions," she said saccharinely, taking another step closer and making me lean away, "and some answers may come, in time. Or they may not. That's the thrill of not knowing, isn't it? You're an author; I'm sure you understand."

I made a vague noise of acknowledgement, not sure if I was supposed to say something or not. She was only a few feet away from me now. "You never answered my question…" I said, almost to myself, but she heard it.

She raised an eyebrow slightly, and while I was never good with reading facial expressions, I could tell she was slightly confused. "What question?"

"Back at the theater," I said, feeling my fears fade ever-so-slightly as a topic came up that I had at least _some_ control over. My mouth set from a fearful frown to a firm-ish line. "I asked what happened to everyone else at the mansion. You told me about Ryan, Sally, and Bobby, but you forgot someone." I made eye contact. "…What happened to Naoki?"

Her confusion seemed to grow more genuine. How could she not know who he was? He had been in the mansion with me, and thus _had_ to have been in the theater when the movie started. And if everything I did in the movie had been recorded and shown on the silver screen, then she surely would have known who he was. I must have been reading her wrong, or perhaps her confusion was fake. I decided to play along. "You know, Naoki? Dark hair, kind of my height, didn't have English as his first language, _carried me out of the mansion while I was dying?"_

Materna furrowed her brow… then her face lit up with recognition. "Ah, yes… **now** I know what you're talking about."

"Who," I corrected.

"No, what."

"…Huh?"

"I'll explain it for you, my dear." I stiffened at her overly affectionate tone. "You already know of my last resort plan to just **kill** you I had at the time. I told you as much when we met. However, the entire mansion was set up to kill you; some in 'scripted' ways, like in that game you enjoyed, and some… not. Are you with me so far?"

"Um—"

"**Good.** My plan for if you made it all the way to the outer house involved something that I made… you could call it a 'program', in the larger program that was the mansion as you saw it. Something that would keep you from leaving as a one of my children came to **finish** you. Your magic thwarted that opportunity, but the program's objective was still the same: kill you, or get you killed. Yet, for some reason… the program **failed. **Do you know now what that program was?"

I had lowered my eyes to think, flicking them from left to right as my thoughts tried to connect. Something to _keep me from leaving_ when an Oni showed up—

…No.

_"No…"_ I whispered.

"**Yes."** Materna grinned awfully. "The one you called 'Naoki' was a **trap,** laid by **me,** to kill **you**. Whatever form of 'friendship' you thought you had? It wasn't **real**."

I stared down at the floor in front of me, only able to think of one thing: his eyes. Deep purple and hypnotizing, always a mystery and yet so revealing. _She has his eyes. He had _her_ eyes. How did I not see it the moment I saw her? It's so obvious, but… no, they _can't _be the same, they're so different, they feel so different, they're not…_

I saw her body kneel right in front of me, but I couldn't bring myself to look at her. "Oh," she cooed, and I froze as she brushed my hair back behind my ear slowly. "The truth hurts, doesn't it, dear?" Her hand traced along my cheek… then she grabbed my chin and jerked my head up hard to meet her cold gaze. "**Get used to it."** She stood, dragging me to my feet before letting go.

She had stepped back a pace and was now looking over my shoulder at something. Slowly, I peered over my shoulder to see it. _No, _I realized, eyes widening as I turned away, even if it meant facing her again. _Not it. Who._ I hadn't looked long enough to get all the colors and details organized, but I had seen two things: eyes and outlines.

There were a lot of eyes, all staring at me, in a variety of colors but particularly shades of pink and some blue. The more important thing, I realized, was the number of eyes: twenty-four. Twelve people were standing behind me. The outlines are what really identified them for me: those people were all tall, very tall, but they still had noticeable height differences. The tallest one was in the back, the shortest two were standing in the middle, and most importantly, four of them had hair curls on specific places on their heads.

"D-did you turn the countries evil or something?" I asked. Immediately, cruel laughter blasted behind me and I drew in on myself. Not wanting to lose this thread, though, I looked up at Materna with as much defiance as I could muster. "You should—I mean, you _will _let go of my friends _right now, _o-or else I'll—"

"Oh, my poor, sweet, dumb, **stupid** Author." I was taken aback by her bluntness. I knew I wasn't the smartest person, but no one had called me stupid to my face and meant it in years. "For a fan with such interest in the 'lore' of your 'fandoms', you don't seem to have a grasp on who these people are. I'll give you a hint: they **are** the countries, but they are **not** your friends."

_…Okay, think,_ I thought, _'they are the countries, but they are not my friends'. But she didn't hypnotize them, and it has to do with the lore… So they're evil on their own, and they are countries; that makes me think of—_

I blinked and looked back up at her slowly. "The… second players…?" I offered. She gave the slightest of nods. "But they're not… canon…?"

"Dear girl, you were **in** their dimension before. Is that not proof enough that they're real?"

_In their dimension?_ I thought. _Does she mean the one with the other 'me' in it?_

She seemed to have read my mind, because she nodded again. "There you go," she cooed. I bristled again at her tone. Now that the subject was broached, I thought of how it would have been nice if I had brought Katharina's knife with me to the movie theater… not that I had seen a reason to do so to begin with. "Now, as much as I would love to stand here and answer your inane questions, I have business to attend to. And a **deal** to uphold."

I blinked at that last point. "A deal?"

Materna's smile never wavered. "When you ask someone to work with you, you must compensate them appropriately. When you ask several **powerful** people for something life changing and demanding, you must compensate a little more. 'Give and take'; I'm sure you understand."

I could feel twelve pairs of eyes fix themselves onto the back of my head. I shuddered. She reached a long arm across the small distance between us and placed a hand to my cheek. My eyes widened and I remained perfectly still, not wanting to aggravate her into doing something I'd regret, but also wanting her to not touch my face _stop touching me—_

She rubbed her thumb along my check bone slowly before letting go. I put a hand to the spot and felt the heat on my face. It took me a second to realize she was no longer looking at me. She was talking to the others… the "second players". "I'll be ready for the next phase in one of your hours or so; please put her back in her room when you're done. If you have any questions, remember the file. And, most importantly… have **fun.**"

I had so many questions, but just as I opened my mouth, she faded from sight. Like, literally; as if someone had made her transparent in a photoshop app. She was gone.

_Just as well,_ I thought as I closed my mouth. _I probably would have just been making noises instead of getting a word in edge-wise._ I stared at the space where she'd been moments before. The spot on my cheek she'd touched felt cold and numb.

"SO!" Someone clapped behind me, making me jump and whirl around. Someone was casually strolling over to me, with a casual smile and a casual voice. But with something more malicious, too. "THIS is the famous 'Author'. Hero of the Cult of Veneziano and slayer of Onis..." He stopped right in front of me, towering. "…I'm not impressed."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the other second players standing where they'd been before, all looking in our direction. Or I guess, rather, in mine. My attention was focused on the man before me, though.

Like I mentioned, he was tall. My head came up to his upper chest, and he wasn't even the tallest one in the room. He was dressed in a dark brown military uniform with a black shirt, tie, and gloves. He had knee-high boots and two long red tassels hanging from his belt, which also had a knife dangling off of it. A black hat with a small black tassel on it rested on top of his dark red hair, with a curl coming off the left side of his head. His big magenta eyes seemed to smirk at me. I couldn't break eye contact, no matter how much I wanted to. I noticed him reaching a gloved hand towards my face._ What is it with these people and touching my face?!_

Without thinking, I grabbed his hand, brought it to a more appropriate level, and shook it as if I were the new intern in his office building. "Hi I'm The Author it's nice to meet you," I said numbly.

He blinked at me, and I silently celebrated the small bit of confusion I had wrought. That celebration was over quickly, though, and his smile returned, shaking my hand calmly for a few seconds. Without letting go of my hand (even when I tried to pull away), he turned to the other second players behind him. "The ragazza says it's nice to meet us, compagni," he said. Quiet chuckles echoed around me. He returned his gaze to me. "I suppose we should introduce ourselves, si? Seeing as we've never properly met." He gave a slight bow, still not letting go of my hand. "I am Veneziano. Piacere di conoscerti."

"…Just Veneziano?" I asked. "No other name…?"

"If you're asking me for a 'human' name, you won't get one. When we were in the mansion, we didn't have that pathetic little 'alliance' of 'friendship' that your countries had. We _are_ our nations, and we will stick by that." He gave me a look, as if challenging me to challenge him. I would not.

I needed to get away from him, from everyone, from all of this; but how? There was no way I'd be able to overpower even one of these guys with my little twig arms, and I had no weapons to defend myself or attack with. It certainly didn't help that I couldn't seem to tear my gaze away from Veneziano while he was looking right at me. I had managed to confuse him with words, but not nearly enough to even consider attempting an escape, and something told me I didn't have the wits to succeed like that again.

Then something occurred to me: the knife on his belt. I wasn't sure what a single tiny knife would do against twelve nations with presumably bad tempers, but right then, all that mattered was gaining any sort of advantage. How to get it, though? I tried to think of stories I'd heard of people stealing things. The most successful stories I recalled had one thing in common: being extremely visible about the whole thing. I once heard about a guy who simply walked into a store and walked out with a whole canoe, without paying for it, all because he acted as if it were completely logical and ordinary. Not one person had questioned him. Could I pull something similar here?

Trying to use a guesstimation of where the knife was on his body in my split second once over of him, I made sure to keep my eyes directly on Veneziano as I calmly reached for his waist.

One second later, that knife was pointed at my throat. _Well,_ I thought half-seriously, _I guess not every story is completely one-size-fits-all._

"Apparently, we'll have to keep an eye on our possessions while you're here," Veneziano said. He was still gripping my hand to keep me from moving. He was also still smiling, but it was more incredulous, as if he were thinking "Really? Did you actually think that would work? Wow. Just wow." He kept pointing the knife at me, hovering far enough away that he probably couldn't accidently nick me, but close enough to me make physically try not to swallow for fear of nicking myself. After a few seconds of establishing dominance, he pulled the knife away, spinning it in his hand before slipping it into his back pocket.

He smirked at me before turning to face his "compagni". Now that he wasn't looking at me with those gleaming magenta eyes, I could actually look around at the rest of the group. Just as I had seen, they were all very tall. I was of average height, at least by American standards, and if my head only came up to Veneziano's chest, then he must have easily been six and three quarters of a foot tall, if not taller. Also like I had noticed; he wasn't the tallest one. Most of the nations seemed to sit pretty around seven feet, though one of them in the back looked like he could be eight feet tall. Highly improbable, but apparently very real.

"Vieni, compagni," Veneziano addressed the group. "Come shake the ragazza's hand." A few people groaned in annoyance, which made me feel both relieved and a bit offended.

"They don't have to if they don't—" I began. Veneziano's grip tightened on my hand. I got the message and shut up.

"Come shake the ragazza's hand," he repeated, though it sounded more like an order than a request now.

_Going down the conga-line, I guess,_ I thought as I prepared to go through a lot of hand shaking.

My hand was grabbed suddenly and a face took up all of my vision, nearly making me fall over in surprise. This man was about as tall as Veneziano, and looked both similar to and different than him. He had a similar build to Veneziano and had a hair curl on the right side of his head, but his hair was yellow blonde. He wore a pair of pink sunglasses that made his eyes turn a darker shade of pink than Veneziano's, and he wore a light pink suit with a sky-blue infinity scarf around his neck. He was looking at me as if I were… actually, I wasn't sure. He seemed excited, though.

"CIAO, BELLA!" He yelled right in my face.

"…Hi?" I squeaked.

"Che bello conoscerti! Sono Romano, Veneziano's fratello maggiore! Sei carino, lo sai?"

"…Scusi?" I asked as politely as I knew how. Hopefully, that meant "excuse me" or something similar, because I had no idea what he just said.

Apparently, it was close enough, because he gasped happily and shook my hand rapidly. "I said, 'it's nice to meet you! I'm Romano, Veneziano's older brother! You're cute, you know?'"

I blinked at this onslaught of information. As I had suspected, this was Lovino's second player, and he thought I was… cute?

"U-um," I covered my mouth with my free hand and tried to look away in embarrassment. "Th-thank you—"

"At least, you would be if you put some effort into it, si?"

_Ah,_ I thought. "Ah," I said. "Thaaaank yoouu…?"

"You're welcome, bella!" He kissed my hand and skipped away.

_Good lord, I'm either going to die because these people kill me or because I literally cannot handle all of this awkward attention._ This I thought just as my hand was picked up again.

"'Ello, poppet!" My hand was shaken at a rapid but more polite speed by a man who could only be described as "unnatural". He was dressed in light brown slacks and a white dress shirt with a pink vest over it and a big sky-blue bow-tie, but that wasn't what was unnatural about him. He had hair that was a pale strawberry blonde, but more like artificial strawberries than real ones. The blonde-pink hair framed a pale face with freckles like mine, an extremely wide grin, thick black eyebrows, and wide eyes that seemed to have a pink swirl in the sky-blue iris.

I had been staring at those strange and almost-literally hypnotizing eyes for a moment when I realized he had been talking to me. "Um, sorry, sir?" I offered weakly. "I was a bit distracted; what did you—"

"Oh, and such a _polite_ one, too! I said, my name is England, and I must say that it is quite a pleasure to meet you properly!"

"O-oh," I said. "Th-thank you, England."

England let go of my hand and put his together in a bit of a pleading motion. "I truly have to ask: did you really like the cupcake I made you back on that day?"

_Cupcake?_ I furrowed my brow before remembering. "Oh, yes! I mean, it was good, yes. A bit of an odd aftertaste for a chocolate cupcake, though."

England raised a large eyebrow. "Chocolate…? That wasn't a chocolate cupcake, poppet."

"It wasn't?" I asked. "It looked like it should have been chocolate… are you sure-?"

"Dear poppet, I know my pigs blood cupcakes like the back of my hand! I know what I gave you."

"…What."

"Pigs blood! A common ingredient in soups, so I thought: 'why not put it in a cupcake?'"

"…I ate pigs blood."

"Indeed!"

The color drained from my face, and Veneziano uncharacteristically patted me on the shoulder. "I wouldn't trust what this guy says, Author." He grinned. "That blood probably didn't come from a pig."

I could physically feel myself turning green, and I hunched over in preparation to retch. Before I could, though, England tapped me on the forehead three times and said loudly, "no need for that; nausea, be gone!"

There was an audible bell ringing sound, and I shivered as a cold feeling rushed through my head and into my stomach, clearing me of my sickened stomach, but not my sickened mind. "…W-what…?" I asked, disoriented.

"Magic!" England said cheerily. "You've used it a few times yourself, though from what I've heard, only by accident. Oh, how I'd have _loved_ to have gotten to teach you! You know, you remind of someone I met back in nineteen aught seven…"

He began to go on a tangent about a person who apparently was naturally apt at magic like me, but then it went to a general discussion of magic rules, like how spoken spells tend to be more effective than non-spoken spells for beginners. I didn't really pay attention after that, focused on my own thoughts. Magic? I had forgotten that was a thing. Not sure how, considering how much I used it in the mansion. _Only by accident, though,_ I repeated England's words in my head. _But could I actually do it on purpose? I've never tried, I don't even know how! _I went over what I knew as he rambled. I had used magic without saying anything before multiple times; I had once managed to draw a magic circle without ever having seen one; but the only spell I could recall someone saying was one that Arthur had recited when we were leaving the apparent second player dimension. It was in another language; one I couldn't even come close to guessing at. How would I use magic? _Could_ I?

Then, it occurred to me: that little bit of magic England had just used on me to keep me from throwing up had been in English, and it didn't even sound that difficult. _Should I just… make up a spell?_ It couldn't be that hard, right? _Someone_ had to have made something up that worked one day; why couldn't I?

I went with the first thing that came to my head. It was easily the stupidest spell anyone had probably ever made, but if it worked, none would be the wiser. I spread my fingers out enough to say so, but not enough to draw England's attention as he talked about magic creatures.

I recited the spell in my head. Nothing happened. I tried again. Nothing. _Maybe I need to say it aloud?_ I didn't want to risk giving myself away, so I spoke the spell just above a breath. "-!" I bit my lip, but that small noise I made after saying the spell was apparently too loud.

"What was that, poppet?" England asked, everyone turning to me again.

"Nothing!" I said too quickly. "…It was nothing, just, um… you made an interesting point there. Please continue."

"NO." Everyone else said loudly.

England pouted a bit at them, then turned back to me with an odd look on his odd face. "I'd recognize that sound anywhere," he said. "It sounded to me like pain. Are you in pain, poppet?"

"Not… really?" It had felt like I'd been poked sharply with a fork all around my wrists, so while it hurt, it hadn't been enough to say I was in pain.

England looked thoughtful for a moment… then raised his large eyebrows. "Did you try casting a spell?"

"Uh, no?"

"You did! You absolutely did! What was the spell?"

"UM." I glanced around at the second players. Everyone was looking at me expectantly, some seeming bored while others were annoyed or vaguely curious. "I'd… rather not say. It was… dumb."

"Now, now," England wagged a finger, "everyone starts somewhere. Why don't you tell us what it was?" The edge in his tone at the end of that sentence sent a shiver down my neck.

"…" I whispered, cringing as my wrists were painfully poked again.

England leaned forward. "What was that, poppet?"

"…hcspcsalkzmgtmoutaheerzfstzucn…" I clenched and unclenched my fists in an attempt to stretch out the pain.

England was no longer smiling, and the pink swirls in his irises seemed to flare slightly. "Author…" he warned.

"HOCUS POCUS ALAKAZAM/ GET ME OUT OF HERE AS FAST AS YOU CAN—**_OW!"_**

Everyone burst into laughter as I grabbed at my wrists, trying to find the source of the sudden burning feeling that was traveling through my fingers and down my forearm. The green jewels in the center of the heart shaped charms on my bracelets were glowing brightly, but slowly fading. I tried desperately to massage the pain out of my arms, hissing and grunting all the while.

"…You were right, poppet," England said after the laughter died down. "That was pretty dumb."

"Gee, thanks," I grumbled.

"Technically, it would have been valid, though." I looked up in surprise. "At least, for someone of your caliber it would have been valid. For most people, that 'spell' wouldn't have done a thing, but since you're so naturally talented… Still, you wouldn't have gotten far. No specific location to go to, no specification of where 'here' is, no specification of _how_ to get away from 'here'… at best, you'd have appeared somewhere else in this building and be found immediately and brought back here. At worst, you'd have teleported a few feet away from where you are now."

"…Huh," I said, not entirely sure how to feel about that. I looked again at the charm bracelets, tugging uselessly at them for a second before I held them in England's direction.

"Magic nullifiers," he said simply. "_She_ couldn't have you accidentally—or purposefully—shooting magic at anything that moves, so she took some precautions- with a little help from yours truly. Though I have to say, poppet," he leaned back and looked at me appraisingly. "Even with the most powerful nullifiers I could get my hands on, you _still_ nearly used magic. That's important to know-"

"Can we PLEASE move on now?!" Someone yelled. I jumped and saw a man with auburn hair with a crescent shaped curl and red eyes stalking towards me, wearing a dark brown bomber jacket over a dirty white T-shirt with dog tags around his neck. "I am so _sick_ of wasting time with talking! This is supposed to be _all_ of our turns, not just one person's!" He grabbed my hand roughly and shook it. "I'm America, blah blah blah. Can we keep moving so we can get to the good part?" He turned to go back to the main group.

"What's the good part…?" I asked warily. He paused mid-stride, then smirked at me over his shoulder before continuing on his way.

"My brother does have a point," another man with a spiraling curl coming from his long blonde hair said. He had a pair of sunglasses resting on top of his head, and his dark purple eyes had bags under them. He tugged the collar of his half-buttoned red flannel and strode up to me, looking bored out of his mind. He shook my hand. "I'm Canada." He turned his gaze to Veneziano as he walked backwards. "We only have an hour to do this, and we've wasted at _least_ a half hour of that time with… whatever this has been. We need to move on."

"Wait, has it been that long already?" A man with chin length brown hair and narrow red eyes looked at his red sleeve-hidden wrist and groaned. "You know what? Screw it. Everyone, get in a line."

"No," a few people said.

"Are you just saying that to spite me?" the first man snapped.

"Yes," they answered.

"Well, you're not pulling that with _me_," Veneziano said darkly. "Everyone. In a line. _Now._" A few grumbles and shuffling footsteps later, everyone who had yet to shake my hand was in a line in front of me.

_This is so awkward I'm going to diiiiie—_my thoughts were interrupted by the man in red stepping up to the metaphorical plate. "I'm China," he said, before dropping my hand like a rock and walking away.

_…Okay then._ A man with black hair and red eyes in a black Japanese naval uniform with a purple cape and white gloves bowed to me, then took a step forward and shook my hand. "I am Japan. It is an experience to meet you."

"Y-you too," I said. For some reason, he didn't let go of my hand after shaking it, but held it a moment longer. His eyes looked me up and down, lingering in certain areas before he smirked slightly and gave an acknowledging breath. _Then _he let go. I could practically feel the awkwardness crawling on my skin like his eyes.

A man who looked like he needed a nap walked over and shook my hand. I tried not to wrinkle my nose too much. He smelled like cigarettes. "I'm France," he said simply. His longish blonde hair hung limply around his head and his purple dress shirt was wrinkled and untucked. He put his free hand to the side of his mouth… then blinked and pulled it away. He stared at his empty hand for a moment. Then he glared at me, emphasizing the bags under his indigo eyes, before letting go and stalking away. It took less than a second to put two and two together: he rarely didn't have a cigarette in hand, there was a "no smoking" policy today for some reason, and he was absolutely not okay with that. I wondered briefly if that supposed policy had been put in place for my sake. I mean, that would have been nice, but… kind of a too-little-too-late thing, you know?

And then the tallest man came for me. He was dressed in a large black coat with gold trim and had a red scarf around his neck. I had to bend backwards slightly to meet his tired red eyes and larger nose on a face framed with black hair. He calmly took my hand, and I was very careful to make mine limp so he wouldn't think I was impertinent. His grip didn't hurt, but I could feel the power behind it. This man could have very well ground all of my bones into a paste with only his bare hands and any residual blood still dripping off the bones ripped out of my body. "Priyatno s Vami poznakomit'sya," he said.

_Huh?_ I thought.

"I am called Russia. That is all you are needing to know."

"Okay," I said lamely. He looked down at me for a few agonizing seconds before releasing me and walking away slowly, but purposefully.

And then the _second_ tallest man came for me. I recognized him, since he looked similar enough to his counterpart, but it would probably be better to let the blonde, scarred, muscular man introduce himself, himself. He was wearing a black cap and a white tank top, with black pants and a tan jacket hanging on his shoulders like a cape. The Iron Cross was hanging around his neck, and his red-violet eyes had lines under them, like he was tired. Or smoked. Or both. "Guten Tag. Ich heisse Deutschland," he said, shaking my hand.

"Guten Tag, Deutschland," I replied as politely as I knew how. "Es ist nett zu treffen Sie." He gave me a weird look and I bit my lip. There were probably better ways of saying "it is nice to meet you", but I didn't know them.

We stared awkwardly at each other for a moment before Germany blinked and let go of my hand. "Seltsames Mädchen…" I heard him mutter quietly. Unfortunately, I didn't know what "seltsames" meant, so I could only assume the worst.

I probably might have mistaken the penultimate person for a woman with how long their hair was, but their extremely base tone made me think, _yyyeah, never mind, that's a man… probably._ His chocolate brown locks were thrown over his shoulder in a ponytail, tied together with an old-looking purple ribbon, and he was wearing a fairly plain looking brown uniform. There were a lot of scars on his face, and his green eyes seemed both blank and… hungry. For power, hopefully, and not something else. "I'm Spain," he said, and walked away. I could still feel the imprints of his eyes on mine, and I felt my pained blood creep through me like a centipede.

And then I met the last one. And what a ride it was. A terrible, terrible ride.

His outfit was the most elaborate out of everyone's: a long white tunic-thing with a black cross on the front, a belt, long black boots, gray chainmail sleeves and black gloves. On his back and tossed slightly over his left arm was a long white cape with another black cross stitched on the side. His gray-white hair was thick, and probably would have been called fluffy under better circumstances. It was pulled into a ponytail thrown over his shoulder, and his eyes were navy blue—he was the first person to not have a variation of pink or purple in their eye color. He didn't take my hand, but stared down at me. His mouth was pressed in a thin line, and his white eyebrows were furrowed. His eyes seemed to literally burn into me; I could almost physically feel the heat of his gaze as he looked me up and down. Like I said, I was never good with identifying facial expressions, but I made an assumption that ended up being pretty accurate: for some reason I didn't know yet, he loathed me with a burning passion.

_Veneziano, Romano, England, America, Canada, China, Japan, France, Russia, Germany, Spain… I guess that leaves…_ I slowly held out my hand and tried to have a presentable smile. "H-hello, are you… Prussia?" He stared at me silently for a few seconds, then nodded slightly. "Oh, o-okay, well, I'm… The Author… You, uh, probably already know that, haha…" I held my hand a little higher. He continued to stare for a few more seconds. Then he slowly… _slowly…_ took my hand. I tried not to flinch with how tightly he gripped it. Whereas Russia was clearly suppressing his strength when he shook my hand, Prussia was doing no such thing. And yet, I had the distinct suspicion that he was only giving me a taste of his true power. _Sheesh, mister, what'd I do to _you?

He finally let go after what felt like an agonizing half a minute, but he didn't back away. He just… kept staring. As much as I hated conversation with strangers, I hated being at the center of an awkward silence even more. So, I decided to attempt small talk. "…Uh." He looked at me. I mean, he was looking at me before, but now it was like I was an ant-covered puzzle he had been forced to solve, and he was even less happy about that than he had been before. "I, uh… was in your country! For a bit…Um-"

"I am aware." I jumped slightly at his tight, quiet voice.

He didn't say anything after that, so I continued. "It was… interesting! And… yeah. Um, I'm actually kind of curious about… a lot of stuff… about your country. Like…" My mind, at first, drew a blank, but then the deep blue of his eyes reminded me of something. "The buildings in the city! They were, um, really pretty! But I don't actually know what the buildings were for? Like, were they residential, or business, or…?"

"Residential. That is my only city, so there is nowhere else for the people to live legally," he answered.

"Oh, okay." He began to walk around me, never taking his gaze off of me. I did the same, turning in place with him so I didn't end up getting beaned over the back of the head by an angry outburst. "Would you mind if I asked you about some other… stuff?" I asked.

He stopped when he was behind me, and I was now stuck between one rock that really, _really_ hated me and a bunch of other rocks who only seemed to _slightly_ hate me. "You will insist on it, anyway."

I opened my mouth to deny that, but closed it again when I realized he was right. I probably _would_ find a way to keep asking, even if he didn't want me to. So, I decided to press. "Um, okay, so… how long have there only been twelve nations in the whole world?"

"Two hundred years."

"…Only two hundred?"

"Yes. The memory of the other nations was erased after we took over."

"Why?"

"…Why?"

"Why were the memories erased? And also, um, why are there only twelve countries?"

Prussia stared at me (what else was new?). It occurred to me then that none of the other nations had spoken up, to complain about "lost time" or for any other reason. I got the feeling that Prussia had specifically requested some "alone time" with me, and the other second players were respecting that.

After a long pause, he said, "The twelve great nations were trapped in the mansion for countless time loops, Veneziano being the only one to survive most of the time. Eventually, though, we all managed to escape—_without any outside assistance—"_ he gave me a look, "and we were approached outside the mansion gates by _her_. She proposed a deal: we would be made the most powerful and only nations on our world, eventually uncontrolled and unbound by humans. In return, we would serve her when she needed us, and help her become a supreme being."

"…Ah." I was once again unsure of how to feel about the information I was given. "And… you were okay with that? With losing your friends-?"

"We were not 'friends' with them," Prussia said tightly, "and we are not 'friends' with each other now. It's a pure alliance, untainted with 'bonds' and 'friendship'. The border around my country was a further testament to that, though it seems it wasn't used by the others." He looked pointedly at the countries behind me before snapping back to me. "The only reason Veneziano is the 'leader' of our alliance is because he was the one that survived the most throughout the time loops."

"Oh, well, I guess that makes sense. What about the 'no-foreigners' policy? Wouldn't that be an aggressive move to make on your allies?"

"It was a simple defense mechanism, to avoid influencing the people with ideas—"

"He was worried one of our leaders would try to marry his boss," America said.

Prussia glared at me as if I was the one who said that. "And what happened as soon as I opened the borders to your leaders? Yes, they were insistent on… _courting_ her." His attention actually focused on me again. "Any other stupid questions, you—"

"Why is your land so small?" I blurted. Someone snorted loudly behind me, and it occurred to me that I could have phrased that better. "I mean… why is the size of Prussia not that big…?" More restrained laughter. Prussia looked five seconds away from snapping me in half. "Um, w-what I mean to say is—"

"We drew. Straws." Prussia's voice was so tight I was slightly worried that his voice box would pop like a flesh balloon.

"…Oh." I said. "So you got the—"

"_Yes._"

"Okay," I squeaked. I figured then would be a good time to stop asking questions, but something occurred to me that I should have asked before, and now that it was in my mind, I couldn't ignore it. "…How's Mari?"

The room grew about ten degrees colder. I had gone somewhere I should not have gone.

Prussia took a single step towards me. I nearly stepped back, but I realized that I'd just be backing into the others and get trapped. So, I forced myself to stand my ground. "I'm just curious," I said quietly, putting my hands together and managing to look down at the floor. "She was sad when I last saw her, but… determined, too. She and Brittany Davidson were going to try… you know, leading the people and stuff… and maybe she'll be nicer to her people than—"

I was on the floor, sharp pain radiating along my right cheek. "HOW _DARE_ YOU?!" Prussia roared. "KATHARINA WAS THE BEST THING TO HAVE HAPPENED TO THE PEOPLE OF NEW PRUSSIA IN _CENTURIES_! SHE COULD HAVE RULED THE WORLD WITH AN IRON FIST! ALL THOSE BEFORE HER WERE TOO WEAK AND SENTIMENTAL AND SO ARE YOU! IM VERGLEICH ZU IHR BIST DU EINE VERLEGENHEIT!"

He said some more after that, but I didn't understand, nor did I listen. My thoughts were a blur. My emotions were a blur. _I_ was a blur. I don't know how long I lay there—a few seconds or a few minutes—but after that time had passed, one thought managed to make its way to the comprehensible surface: he hit me. He actually hit me. As soon as that thought crossed my mind, the emotions that went with such an action bombarded me. I couldn't help it.

"hic…_hic…"_

"…Are you _crying? Gott_, you're pathetic!" I heard angry foot stomps coming toward me, to kick me or something, I didn't know what. I curled in on myself, hiding my tears in embarrassment.

Suddenly the footsteps stopped unevenly, as if something had suddenly appeared in Prussia's way. "That's enough whining about your weird obsession with your leader, Prussia," Veneziano's voice said. "Remember what we were told—we're not supposed to hurt her."

Oh, well, that was—

"Physically."

…Ah. I flinched when I felt a hand settle on my arm. "Are you okay?" Veneziano asked.

"N-no…" I managed.

"Too bad." He grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet, forcing me to quickly try to hide the tears from the twelve nations surrounding me.

No sooner had I wiped a fresh tear from my eye when the people around me exploded, yelling insults in various languages that amounted to things like "you're disgusting", "you're pathetic", "you're stupid", and a million other things I refuse to repeat here. I slapped my hands over my ears and clamped my eyes shut, trying to drown out the screaming with _DON'TCRYDON'TCRYDON'TCRY—_

Unfortunately, it was not working, and a few more tears poured down my cheeks. It felt like it would last forever—and time was relative, so it might as well. I needed to try something else.

There was a phenomena of the anime world that I hadn't brought up with anyone, so I wasn't sure if other people had noticed it to the extent I did, but my mind was always a lot more focused in this place, and not almost constantly wandering as it did in my own world. Since I thought about anime a lot, I had supposed that being _in_ the place my thoughts often went to meant my mind no longer had to wander and I could focus on the "important" things better. But now, the "important" things I could focus on consisted only of the horrid insults being thrown at me. If I could just escape, for a little while, make this more bearable… _Please,_ I thought, barely audible to myself over the voices, _let me think of something, _anything_ that'll make me feel a little better…_ A single thought appeared in my mind and I jumped for it.

_"Der Fuhr has been very angry," the Nazi officer said. "I vouldn't be surprised if he took a very serious interest in zhis case." He pulled out a goofy hand puppet of Hitler, and the POW stared in utter confusion. The audience laughed as the puppet waggled a hand at him._

_"Y' g'nna g'v' 's th' inf'rmation?" The officer had the puppet say._

_"…What?" said the POW._

_"Whaddaya mean, 'what'? Y' g'nna g'v' 's th' inf'rmation?"_

_"I'm not telling you anything!"_

_The puppet turned to the officer. "What'd he say?" the officer asked the puppet._

_"'E s'd 'e's n't g'nna tell 's anyth'n'," the puppet replied. The officer had the puppet reach into his coat pocket. "Th's 's g'nna be rough stuff!" The puppet proclaimed, pulling out an unsharpened pencil._

_"He's gonna hit you vizh zhat club!" The officer warned the POW._

_"HEY!" The puppet yelled, "G'V' 'S TH' INF'RMATION!" He bopped the POW on the nose with the pencil. The POW punched the puppet in the face._

_"What'd he say?" The officer asked the puppet. The puppet turned around and bopped the officer on the nose. The audience broke out laughing._

"…Heh…" My sniffles and tears had mostly dried, and I felt a small smile form on my lips. Unfortunately, everyone else had caught on to my game.

"This is getting us nowhere!" Germany growled in annoyance. "It's not fun when she's ignoring us!"

"Are you _sure_ we can't hit her?" France asked.

_Please say you cannot,_ I wished at Veneziano, peeking my eyes open and loosening my grip on my ears to hear the conversation, now that I wasn't being screamed at.

Veneziano sighed, clearly annoyed at the answer he was about to give. "No, we can't. I'm pretty sure—"

"_Pretty_ sure?!" China repeated. "Didn't you read the file?!"

"I did!" Veneziano insisted. "…A week ago…"

Everyone groaned, even the slightly more chipper ones, Romano and England. "Give _me_ the file, I'll read it," Spain said, reaching a hand in Veneziano's direction. I turned to where he was pointing behind me.

Veneziano was holding a plain-looking office folder with lots of paperclips on the top defensively to his chest. "I'm the only one allowed to read the file, Spaniard, you know that!"

"Stupid rules," America muttered. Canada smacked his arm and they glared at each other. It occurred to me right then that I could have tried to manipulate the situation earlier so that they were at each other's throats, since they seemed to not actually like each other that much. Well, hindsight_ is_ 20-20, as they say.

"Un attimo, un attimo," Veneziano said as he began to flip through the file. "Likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses, birth certificate—"

_Why do they have my birth certificate?_

"…Okay, here's the 'deal' section. Now let's see… time allotment, known weak points… do's and don'ts, here we go, and then… ah-ha! Found it!" Everyone (except me) leaned forward in anticipation of the verdict. "'Don't' numero cinque: any form of torment is permitted, with the exception of physical attacks explicitly meant to cause harm; the 'poor girl' (he put quotes around that part) will be going through enough of that without any outside help. Accidental injuries will be assessed; don't try your luck.'"

Everyone groaned again. _Why does everyone want to beat me up so much?_ I thought. _Also I do not like that phrasing. Who wrote that thing?_

"Well, that's that," Veneziano sighed. "We'll have to try something else instead-oh-_wait?_" His inflection rose at the end and I thought, _uh-oh._ "There's an asterisk~" he said enticingly (to them, not me). "It says, 'no physical torment is allowed _with the exception of manipulation of her capillus Crispum. _In other words," he sneered at me and pointed to the long strand coming from the left of his head, "…hair curls."

Everyone immediately turned to me, and I shrunk in on myself. Even after all this time, I still didn't know what that meant, but the way everyone was looking at me made me feel _very_ afraid. A series of memories came to my mind:

_I reached up to pat the hair curls down when Brittany Davis grabbed my hand. "Best not touch them, mate."_

_"It's just hair—"_

_"Oh look, a door. Shall we go out?"_

_…_

_I reached up to find the curl, but Brittany and Casey smacked my arm down and glanced at each other for a split second._

_…_

_I looked in a mirror that hung on the wall. The curls were there. That was odd. I thought about reaching up and touching them, but remembered how violently people acted when I tried. No one ever explained it to me._

_…_

_"…I'm telling you; it won't work," I said. "My German is nowhere near fluent enough to pass as a native Prussian, I can't see a thing without my glasses, and I can't do anything about these." I pointed in the general area where my top curl should have been. I felt a strange tug at the base of the curl, as if it was trying to sneak out of sight._

_Brittany Davidson looked at the curls oddly. "It's just hair, isn't it? Why not just brush it over?"_

_"That's what I want to know." I looked up at Arthur, who had been studying me with a curve of his bushy eyebrow. "I have no idea what these are for, and any time before when I tried to touch them, people would freak out, but I never knew why. No one ever told me. Do you have any ideas?"_

_Everyone looked at each other, then back at me. Brittany just seemed confused. I started to reach up to touch the curl that floated beside my left ear. "NO!" The Earth shouted. Brittany and I jumped. I nearly tripped over Edward the cat, who hissed and pattered away to lick his paw furiously._

_"That is…" Arthur straightened his tie. "If you don't know what would happen, then I doubt that now's the time to find out, is it?"_

_"I suppose not…" I said slowly. "But it's just hair…"_

_…_

Confound my unusual lack of curiosity at those moments. But that last memory triggered another:

_"If you want to conceal them, then you just have to think about it," Alfred said with a thumbs up._

_I raised my brow at him. "Think about it?"_

_Lovino waved his hand to draw my attention. He pointed at his curl. "You have to imagine it being concealed within your hair, as if it was just another strand. It takes focus, but it's not hard, si?"_

…

As soon as Lovino's word echoed through my head, I felt the crescent at the top right of my part slide under my hair, and also felt the thin strand that seemed to float beside my head straighten and weave itself into the hair hanging from my head. "Haha what curls?" I laughed weakly.

Veneziano smirked and stepped towards me. I backed up fast, stopping less than a foot from the other countries, who were now in a fan shaped formation behind me, ready to grab me if I tried to run to the side. I was trapped.

"Come on, ragazza," Veneziano said in a voice that was so sweet it practically made me choke. "We know they're there. _You_ know they're there. Won't you let them down?"

"I'd r-rather not," I said nervously. "Your tone makes me not want to do that."

"But you love learning." His voice turned a little less sweet, but it was still attempting to be falsely comforting. "This is just a new experience to learn from. Aren't you curious?"

"Not curious enough for this!" I squeaked.

"Come on." His voice was even less comforting.

I shook my head. "I don't even know if they'll… listen? To me?"

Veneziano sighed. "Well. I tried to be nice about it. England, you're up." He snapped his fingers and I saw England walk around the group behind me until we were face to face. He raised a hand, and I cowered. The jewels on my bracelets were flaring again, sending me into a cold sweat from the pain.

England smiled coolly at all of this; his face betrayed no real emotion. He turned his hand so that back was facing me, then lifted his pointer finger. This gesture confused me. If he needed to point at me to force my curls to appear, wouldn't it be more comfortable to have his palm face me so his hand wasn't backwards? Unless it was a specific motion for a spell—

He curled his finger inwards a few times, and whistled. It was an odd whistle; not like a "TAXI!" whistle or a "bird imitation" whistle, or even a singsong whistle. He whistled the same way one would order a dog to heel.

I blinked in utter confusion as nothing happened. This didn't seem to deter England; he continued to whistle, making a "come here" gesture with his finger. "…What are you doing?" I asked quietly. England's lips quirked into a bigger smile, and he kept right on whistling. The sheer absurdity of this situation was starting to get to me, and I felt my mouth twitch into a smile. "Th-this doesn't make sense…" I said, my voice getting lighter. He continued to whistle and smile, whistle and smile. My own smile grew into an incredulous grin. I covered my mouth. My breath was quickening, but not from fear. I was close to laughing. No, I _needed_ to laugh. "This is—hehe—ridiculous!" I snickered. My laughter grew more intense; I was shaking from the repression, hunching over on myself and closing my eyes. Then England gave an unusually squeaky whistle, and I couldn't stop myself from bursting out laughing. I had never laughed at something so stupid in my life, and I had laughed at a lot of stupid things. They say laughter is the best medicine, and while that definitely doesn't apply to real physical illness, it certainly worked mentally. My eyes stopped stinging from tears not fallen, my mind cleared of dark clouds, and my face no longer felt so tense.

With an audible _boing_, I felt my hair curls bounce out of hiding.

…

"Oh, _goshums,_" I squeaked.

"Indeed," Veneziano replied.

New Objective:

ESCAPE!

I bolted to the side. I didn't know which direction and I didn't care. I didn't know where the exit was. I didn't care about that either. I was filled with an animalistic panic to _get out of there._ It didn't last long.

As I had suspected, the group of countries behind me were there as a sort of backup plan, and grabbed me as soon as I took the second step. I was yanked back to where I was before, and my struggles were so ineffective that I might as well have been punching a rock to make it go away. My shoulders were pushed forward, my arms were forcibly straightened like bird wings mid-flight, and when I tried to kick at them, I was shoved onto one knee and generally rendered immobile. I made noises of protests, continuing my struggle in vain. They barely made a sound, seeming to need no effort in restraining me.

Veneziano took his time, strolling up to me at an agonizingly slow pace. I shook my head rapidly from side to side, but he grabbed my chin and forced me to face him. I pulled at his grip uselessly, staring up at him with big, watery eyes. He paused a moment to look at me, eyes never leaving my face.

"Please…" I whimpered, ashamed at myself for begging.

"Don't be so dramatic, ragazza," he said coolly. "To be honest, I'm just as curious as you." I shut my eyes tight.

With his free hand, he hovered a single finger next to the crescent at the top of my head. He hadn't touched it yet, but I could feel its presence like an electric current. I took a sharp inhale through my teeth. The curl sent pulses of electricity down into my forehead—no, not quite electricity; it was more of the feeling of a part of the body "falling asleep", but more intense. That fuzzy, stinging feeling radiated like a heart pulse into my face, settling especially around my eyes. It was extremely uncomfortable, but it didn't quite hurt.

He stroked the air next to my curl slowly, sending the pulses at different intensities into my skull and brain. My breathing was strained, still hissing out from behind my teeth. Aside from that, it was deathly quiet.

Without warning, he wrapped a fist around the curl and yanked.

"AGH!" I choked out. The "sleeping limb" feeling erupted into genuine electricity; my brain was pounding, and I felt like the entire surface area of my eyes and tongue with were being stabbed with thick needles. My tears burned my skin.

Veneziano let go of my chin, and I desperately pulled away. He had not let go of my curl, though, so my attempts to get away were met with sharper and sharper stabs of pain. After a few panicked yanks, I forced my head to be still, out of a desire to not make the pain any worse. I stifled my shouts.

"Interessante," he murmured to himself. He jerked my curl around, seemingly at random. First to one side, then the other, then in a circle like a control stick, all to my increasingly pained protests.

Amidst the burning pain, two cold spots froze on my neck as if nitrogen were freezing my skin. A pair of eyes. A familiar, _hateful _pair of eyes. Prussia grabbed the curl floating next to my left ear and pulled as hard as inhumanly possible.

I practically shrieked with pain. This curl sent stabbing electricity into my ear, rattling the bones and hair follicles in the canal and piercing my brain like a hot knife. "STOP!" I cried out.

Everything blurred, worse than a thousand slaps to the face. I was being pulled back and forth, pushed around as I was passed from person to person like a toy. And the _laughter…_

It surrounded me, screaming along with the pulses in my head, cruel and uncaring and insane. It hurt almost as much as the yanking itself.

It went on for so long that I barely noticed it was over until it became clear that the room was darker now. I could barely think, but I noticed that the room felt smaller, closed in, with a single light source that glowed dimly yet painfully from across the space. I was back in the cell. I hadn't even noticed being put in there. My ears were ringing. I was shaking. I could barely stand. I did the only thing I could think of.

I lay down.

I tried not to cry.

I cried a lot.

…

I returned to awareness, feeling like my head had been turned into a tuning fork and slammed full force into a concrete slab. My whole body was vibrating, and my ears rang so much I could barely hear myself think.

I vaguely tried to attach myself to the things I could perceive outside my pain: a rough stone floor, darkness, and… yeah, that was about it. I was also clammy, a feeling I was familiar with after a straight week of not sleeping more than three hours a night during college one year. I desperately wanted to cool down; a breeze, a cold shower, something to make me stop feeling this unbearable not-heat.

I was so wrapped up in my inner thoughts, I barely noticed a new sound in the room.

"…"

I tried to slow my breaths, creating an awkward sound of a few shuddering deep breaths, followed by a second or so of choked gasps to get the oxygen I wanted into my lungs. Slowly, though, it worked. The sound became a little more apparent: footsteps.

There went my slightly calmed breathing routine.

I curled in on myself, hoping and praying that whoever was coming towards me would just _go away—_

"Author?"

I froze. That voice… that accent…!

Head pounding, I pushed myself up and lifted my head. The outline of a person was just visible; thin, with dark, collar bone-length hair. I staggered to my feet, hunched over as I stared at them. They leaned forward and raised their hands a bit, as if they were unsure if they should help me. My vision cleared a bit, and I could see a concerned but apprehensive expression on their pale face. Their purple eyes flicked from me to the hem of the white dress shirt half-tucked into black pants that they were fiddling with. Mysterious purple eyes that hid and told so much.

"…Naoki…?" I whispered.

He waved awkwardly at me. "Greetings, Author," he said, eyes flicking around at everything but me. I took a step towards him. And then another. He looked like he wanted to back away, but forced himself to stay put. He slowly put up his hands in a defensive posture. "I understand you may perhaps feel angry—"

I hobbled the last few steps between us and practically threw myself onto his shoulder, wrapping my arms around him and sobbing anew. Had I had the state of mind to notice or care, I would have thought he might collapse under my weight, but he didn't.

He stood there, seeming to be unsure of what to do as I wept into his shoulder. "Hug me," I wanted to say, but it came out sounding more like "BWAA-HIC-AAAGH!" He seemed to get the message, though, and gently put his arms around me. I hugged tighter. He patted my back with a rhythm I had never heard before, one that seemed to send a steady, cooling beat into my spine, where it traveled along my bones and made me feel very tired but very much able to think comprehensively. "N-Naoki…" I whimpered, worried I'd start crying again.

He moved me so I was leaning into his side instead of on him and gestured to the space in front of us. "We should sit." I peeked to the spot he was pointing at and saw the faint outline of a bench in the dark. I let him lead me to it and we sat slowly. The bench was firm, but not hard; a comforting solid object to connect with.

I continued to breathe slowly, Naoki patting me on the back all the while. I wanted to do nothing except cry on him and never speak, but I knew I'd have to, eventually. "…I knew you were real," I said quietly, glancing up at him.

Naoki's pale face went stark. "A-ah…"

I blinked at him for a moment before flopping the side of my head on his shoulder again. "You're not real, are you?"

"No! That is-!" He was quiet for a second. "It is… complex. Yes…"

I wiped my eyes and sat up a bit. "How so?"

Naoki took a deep breath and didn't look at me. "What my—what _she_, said, is true. I am a product of magic, _her_ magic, created for killing you. When we first met, I was to hold you still as my—one of the Onis killed you. _Your_ magic, however, made us invisible, and the opportunity was… foy-eld…?" He looked at me for confirmation.

"Foiled, yeah. Then what happened?"

"When you survived, my mission was changed to find another opportunity to kill you. But, I think perhaps the change was too sudden. Yes, my 'programming', it could be said, could not move as fast as the change. I stopped. You saw me. And then… you talked to me. The program became confused."

"How did I confuse it?" I asked.

"I knew about the file that was made for you. I knew physical strengths and weaknesses, but beyond that, all I knew was that you were a killer." I stiffened a bit. Naoki must have noticed I was about to protest and spoke before I could. "You had killed many Onis. You were dangerous. You _are_ dangerous."

"Ah," I said. "Yeah, that would make me a threat, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, you are very threatening. It is why you had to be killed. But when you talked to me… Opportunities became open, but I couldn't move as fast as you. So, I 'ree-boo-ted' myself."

I put a hand over my mouth, as he had all that time ago. "You were trying to understand me."

"Yes," he nodded. "I already knew what language you spoke, but it was easier to teach myself again than to wait for the program to arrive at the same place. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, it does make sense."

"Very good. It was not easy; I had to… imper—impor—make a plan from nothing, to find a way to kill you. I thought if I was nice, you would be easier to attack. But you continued to talk to me. You asked me to tell _my_ story. Thanked _me_ for helping you. It was… strange… and nice…"

"I try my best," I said half-heartedly.

He stopped patting my back to poke me in a specific spot. I shivered in surprise. "Do not deny—"

"MRRP!" I chirped.

"…What…?"

We stared at each other for a second before I started laughing. "Yeah, that's a thing I do," I said between breaths. I nudged his shoulder with the top of my head and sighed, feeling a little more at ease.

"You never stop surprising me," Naoki said, sounding bewildered and maybe a touch impressed.

"So, uh… where were we?"

Naoki frowned at me. "We… have been here? This entire time?"

"Oh, no, no, I mean—in the story; where did you stop telling the story?"

"Ah," Naoki nodded. "Strange and nice." He gave me a pointed look before continuing. "As we talked, I wanted more to help you. I did not understand why, however. 'Perhaps it is to find a better opportunity', I had said to myself. But… I felt strange feelings. I wanted to give back your kindness, because I had never had it."

I cocked my head slightly. "'Never had kindness'?"

"No one had given me kindness before you. Even during the making of the 'program' spell, I was not given a name like my—like the other Onis."

I thought for a moment. Why did Naoki keep almost referring to the Onis as "his somethings"? If Materna "created" Naoki, and also presumably created the Onis, would that make them—oh. "Is she like your mother?" I asked. Naoki stiffened and went quiet. "…Sorry," I said.

"No, no, do not be sorry. It is just… _she _would never say that. I am not a 'proper' child of hers. I am a tool, created for one purpose. I would have been… 'removed' after my purpose was done." I wrapped an arm around his waist and held close to me. Slowly, Naoki leaned against me and sighed. "You will never stop surprising me."

"Materna is kind of a bad mom," I blurted.

Naoki sucked air in through his teeth and looked at me in horror. "D-do not say that!"

"Why not?" I asked. "It's true."

"She is the _mother_ of the Onis!" he fretted. "It is her name! She takes great pride in her children and being their mother! It could be said, it is her identity!" He covered my mouth with his hand, as he had done when we first met. "Please, do not say that in front of her! Everything will be worse for you!"

I nodded, and he slowly released his grip. "Do you think she can hear us?" I asked.

"I… do not know. To be sure, I do not know how I am here."

"What _did_ happen to you? You disappeared after I pushed you across the mansion's borders."

"…Ah." He was silent again, purple eyes flicking around to find the right words. "When I killed… the Oni that had attacked you in the study, I made a decision to help you in every way that I could. I knew there would be consequences, but I did not care. I would help you escape. But then, that 'boy' appeared. He was an Oni; he would trick you. I wanted to stop him, but you… were so happy to see him. I understood you were kind to many others, not only me. I did not want to stop your hope, but I knew it would not last. When he attacked, we drove him off together. I believe my 'betrayal'… angered my… my mother. So, she began a… 'termination' program. You were dying. Badly."

I shuddered at the memory of what, at the time, had been the worst pain of my life. "You wanted me to stay."

"I had thought… perhaps, if you stayed in the mansion, I could try to… make you comf-ter-bel, in your last moments. But you… were so sad. You wanted to go home, to go to your family. I _had_ to help you do that."

"So you walked with me to the exit. We almost made it."

"Yes," Naoki nodded. "But then the three others who had entered with you followed us. Before I could do anything, you pushed me across the border. I don't know what happened to you after that. You should have died."

"The others seemed to remember me, and threw me across the border so I could escape. But… what about you?" I asked, a sinking feeling in my stomach telling me I already knew the answer. "What happened to _you_?"

"I was not designed to exist outside of the mansion grounds. I _could not_ exist. So, I stopped."

I felt a pricking at the back of my eyes and looked down. "I'm sorry…"

He pulled me into another hug, and it took all of my self-control to not burst into tears again. "Author," he sighed, "do not be sorry. If you had crossed the border, the program would have ended, and I would have stopped anyway. The program would have no use, and be terminated. What you did then… you proved to me I was correct. You are a good person. You made _me_ a good… a good _person_. For a short time."

I bumped my forehead against his. "You were _always_ a good person," I whispered.

Naoki didn't say anything. We sat there for a few moments, just being near each other. I wanted it to last forever. Just us, in the dark, feeling the other's presence and reveling in the sound of our breaths.

Naoki pulled away, sooner than I would have liked, but later than I sensed he thought was wise. "Author, I will be honest: everything will become very, _very_ hard for you soon. But… I think, if you could bring me from nonexistence to be with you… then you will be good. You will win."

"Naoki…?!" My pitch grew. He looked conflicted, as if he weren't sure what to do. He settled with hugging me again and patting my back in that calming rhythm. I was growing more and more tired, like if I closed my eyes, I would sleep for a thousand years. I wanted to fight against it, stay with him a little longer, but I knew it was a losing battle. So, I nuzzled into his shoulder and let his presence soothe me.

…

The thing I was laying on was hard, but I felt very comfortable, so I snuggled into it as if it were a pillow. Contented memories misted my mind. It took me a second to realize I was mouthing a word. No, a name. I pushed a little more are through my voice box to give it volume. "…Nowky… Nowoky… Naoki…" Ah, yes. I was happy to just murmur his name for a while. After a few moments, I found my eyes opening all on their own. It was still dark, but there was now just enough light in the room to reveal a pair of bare feet. _Hmm. Weird,_ I thought, making to close my eyes again when something clicked in my mind. Bare feet…? "Nwa-huh?" I blinked sluggishly.

"I would say you were adorable while you were asleep, but… well, I'm sure you already knew that, my dear."

I slowly pushed myself up, looking up at Materna as she looked back down at me. Her hands were behind her back, and she was smiling down at me. She looked a bit confused, if I wasn't mistaken.

Her presence should have sent me into a fit, but… it didn't. After my talk with Naoki, I felt generally calm about everything, despite the terrible things that "everything" entailed. I felt cautious, but relatively bold. "Why do you look confused?" I rasped. I blinked a bit in surprise. I'd nearly forgotten I had spent a good chunk of time screaming and crying. Huh.

Materna seemed to want to talk about my voice rather than herself. "Your throat must be quite strained, hm?" I shrugged. It was starting to hurt a little more, but I wanted to stay focused. "You know," she looked off at a spot above me, and I looked to see her staring out of the barred window in the cell. "I could hear you crying for quite some time, before you tired yourself out. And…" she turned to me with a mean smile, "your cries reminded me of the sounds my children made when you **killed** them."

I furrowed my brow at that. I wanted to make a snide comment about how she hadn't cared what Naoki thought when he ceased to exist, but his panicked request for me to not purposefully call her out on her mothering rang clear. I remained silent.

"You don't deny it," she noted. I shrugged again. She narrowed her eyes a bit.

"I'm tired," I explained simply. "And you still haven't answered my question. Why did you look confused?"

Her mouth twisted to the side a bit. "You were talking in your sleep. Nonsense words."

I shook my head. "A name. Naoki."

Materna blinked at me, her surprise even more evident than before. She was shaking her head slowly in disbelief. "'Naoki' doesn't exist—"

"He does!" I insisted. I got to my hands and knees, then staggered to my feet, a new headache forming. I was not about to stand down, though. "We talked. He was here. He told me about why he did what he did; why he helped me. Did you know he thought of you and the other Onis as his family? He called you his mother," I looked down at my hands; at my wrists, "and you treated him like nothing." The jewels on the charm bracelets hadn't come to life, and I didn't really want them to. I looked up at her, ready to continue, when her expression stopped me. I wasn't good at reading emotions, but what she was feeling was so clear, it was like she had written it on a sign and held it above her head. Confusion, disbelief, surprise, and worst of all: concern. Genuine concern that I had lost my mind. My calm mist was dissipating and my hands became fists. "Don't pity me," I snapped. "He's real. I _know_ he is." It occurred to me right then how desperate I sounded, and I flushed angrily.

"Breaking points are interesting, aren't they, my dear?" She mused. She watched my increasingly agitated reaction before holding up a hand to stop me from spitting angry words at her. "Let's not discuss this now. There are important matters for us to attend to." I crossed my arms. She continued. "While you were in the mansion that I created in the movie theater, my children were supposed to be able to track your location via your magic. However, your magic often hid itself by diluting itself—and by extension, you—from visibility. That's why my children couldn't find you when you were hiding… most of the time. When your attention was focused on something _besides_ your safety, you were clearly visible. Hence why you were found in the study. And then… well…" she looked at me. "You know what happened."

"Naoki saved me," I said.

She shook her head in that irritatingly pitying way. "A glitch in the program; nothing more."

"But-!"

"The fact that your magic could dilute itself unbeknownst to you made me realize that your magic was, at the time, not concentrated enough. It flows through you, but it does not flow _in_ you."

"You're saying words that mean nothing," I said stubbornly.

"Hello, Pot; I'm Kettle." She rolled her eyes and said, "I'm here to finish changing that."

"Change…?" I shook my head and crossed my arms more tightly. "No thank you; I'm not interested."

"Child, that's what I've been doing the entire two weeks you've been in my domain."

"Yeah, well I don't—two _weeks?!"_ I cried out. "It can't have been that long! You're lying!"

"Think what you will; it will not change the facts."

I put a hand to my chin and stared at the floor furiously. She _had_ to have been lying; how could I disappear for two whole weeks?! Someone should have noticed; someone should have come searching for me! Was anyone looking for me? Did anyone know?

…Was I left to fend for myself?

"I've never done this while you were awake," Materna continued, not seeming to care about my inner crisis. "A part of me is curious as to how you'll react." I flicked my eyes up to look around the room. The only exit was the door behind Materna. I would have to find a way to get around her and then figure out what to do from there. Materna pulled her other hand out from behind her back and showed me what she was holding. "Now, this is a—"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO-"

Materna blinked and looked between my hyperventilating self and the needle in her hand. "So that's all it takes to make her feel fear," she wondered quietly.

In the split second I had looked at it before I broke down into a blubbering mess, it was an apparatus you'd see when you got a shot at the doctors, except this one was the physical manifestation of what made people so afraid of needles. The needle was thick; a least a centimeter in diameter, and seemed to be filed to a point that would make arrow heads cower in fear. The part containing the "vaccine" looked like it was two inches in diameter and maybe five inches long, filled with a viscous yet translucent and silvery liquid.

All I knew was that I didn't know what was in it and I didn't know if the needle was clean or unused.

Materna took a step towards me. "Listen carefu—"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! DRUGS ARE BAD AND I DON'T WANT STI'S OR STD'S OR ANYTHING! NOOOOOOOOO!"

"I—Author, the needle is clean; that's the least of your concerns—"

"NO! NO! _NO!"_

"You are acting like an _infant_—"

"I _HAVE_ NO DIGNITY!"

"Would you just—!"

"NO!"

Materna growled under her breath and waved her hand at me. Something invisible shoved me against the back wall and trapped my arms by my sides. My feet were firmly rooted on the floor, and I was the pin cushion that wouldn't stop yelling.

She took her time in walking up to me, taking in my panic the way one takes in an interesting fact about graphite. "I much preferred you when you weren't so fussy," she commented. She took my chin in her free and forced me to look at her. I noticed that she smelled ashy, like the incense my church would use sometimes, but more ancient. "Now-!"

She stopped, looking up from my face and turning her head just a touch to the side to look behind her. I couldn't hear a thing over the sound of blood rushing in my ears, but apparently, _she_ did. She dropped the needle, but instead of falling to the ground, it disappeared as soon as I blinked. I felt the invisible restraints keeping me still fall away, but before I could so much as twitch, she wrapped her arms around me, one arm around my back and arms and one against the back the back of my head, forcing my face into the bare skin of her chest.

"?!" I protested.

"If you make your presence known I will force you to kill all those you love," she hissed in my ear.

I didn't have a chance to do more than hold my breath, because the door to the cell opened and a voice said, "What are you doing?"

A man's voice? A woman's voice? It would have been difficult to tell even if I weren't silently flustered. Materna kept me restrained, not looking at me or the new voice. "Normally, it's considered polite to knock before entering," she said.

"And what would you know of such 'manners'?" The voice asked. "It is not one of your own customs to do so. Why should I?"

"I've been interacting with the people of other dimensions. I find it easier to work with them if I keep their social niceties in mind."

"So I have noticed…" There was another pause. "Why are you in this room?"

"A fresh perspective. I thought I'd see what my soon-to-be-prisoners will see… if they survive."

Materna turned her head to look over her shoulder. Some of her long hair slid from her neck and brushed gently against my forehead. Her heart was cold, _so cold_, but her chest was so _soft_…

"As if THAT were a possibility. Do you truly expect me to believe you would not let your children devour every single human that is marching on your citadel?"

"So you **do** know what I'm up against."

"I would think it more surprising if I did NOT know what you were up against." Materna hummed in acknowledgement and turned to look back out the window. "…I know we are both aware that they are at a severe disadvantage because THE GIRL is missing."

Materna tightened her grip on me, pressing me deeper into the plushness of her chest. _DON'TTHINKDON'TTHINKDON'TTHINK—_I thought desperately while trying not to breathe.

"And you suspect **me** of knowing her whereabouts. Or, excuse me, you **know** I know where she is because of your omniscience, correct?"

"NEAR omniscience," the voice bristled. "I do not make my weaknesses unknown. I have leads suggesting she is somewhere in your dimension, but she eludes me, that little—person." They huffed shortly before continuing. "I know that you know of her power; hence my suspicions about your role in her disappearance. The other members of her cult are irritatingly persistent with scraping any information they can from anything they can get their hands on."

"I **do** admire human stubbornness… to an extent," Materna mused.

"I do not. It is… a nuisance."

"And yet you've found it in yourself to help them defeat my **son**." Materna's voice grew darker. "I know you were the one to give them the opportunity to do so. Don't deny it!"

"I have not," the voice replied coolly, "but all I have done is given them the opportunity. Their powers and abilities were already shaped at their birth. The opportunity was all that was needed."

"And why **did** you give them that opportunity? I was under the impression you left the multiverse to the whims and choices of those who were able to act on them." It was silent for a moment. "…Nothing to say?"

"Listen carefully, MATERNA," the voice snarled. "You are planning something. I KNOW you are. I will continue my investigations, and if I find a SINGLE hint of something that bodes ill, you will suffer the consequences."

"My children are about to be killed and maimed. Must I suffer more?"

"I will not pity you. Goodbye, Materna." The door closed. A few seconds of silence passed slowly.

Materna suddenly heaved forward, pressing me against he so tightly I couldn't breathe even though I wanted to. "**That was too close,"** she groaned.

She didn't let go when I made a muffled noise of protest, so I put my hands to her waist and pushed my head out of her embrace with a loud gasp and an audible, anime-esque *pop*. After a second of catching my breath, I narrowed my eyes at her and set my jaw. "Don't-ever-do-that-again!" I wheezed. It was quiet for a moment. I realized I still had my hands on her waist and quickly let go. "S-sorry—" I began.

In the time it took me to utter that word, Materna put two and two together of what had happened and apparently really, _really_ didn't like what the answer was. Her tense but otherwise smooth face creased with fury and she shoved me back against the windowed wall. I cried out as my back scraped against the stone. I would have fallen to the floor if I could, but the invisible restraints were back, my legs and right arm perfectly perpendicular to the ground. My left arm, though, was parallel; sticking out to the side, palm forward. I remembered the bandages around my left elbow just as she was taking them off. "W-wait!" I cried desperately. "Don't-!?" She pulled off the last strands to reveal what was hidden underneath: puncture marks, ranging in size and location, but all generally located around the vein and artery in my elbow crease. They were all leaking what appeared to be _extremely_ watered-down watermelon juice. "W-what is _THAT?_" I yelled in terror. The needle reappeared in Materna's free hand, and she silently put the point to an unpunctured spot and jabbed down, pushing the plunger down slowly

PAIN

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PAIN.

Pain.

pain…

.

.

.

.

.

?

Heaviness. A dull thrumming—voices? Voices. So quiet. Can't move. Breathing slow, painful. No energy to move anyway. Pain everywhere. Cold.

The dull thrumming cleared slowly. Voices became more distinct; usually men's voices, but occasionally a woman's. At a snail's pace, I could make out words.

"…almost…"

"…alive?"

"Yes."

"…troublesome…"

"…concur…"

After a series of words being faintly heard, I finally comprehended my first sentence: "You really like holding her, huh?"

"I am a **mother,**" the woman's voice responded, barely containing fury. "I do **not** touch like that."

Touch like what?

"Well, I mean, even a mother—"

"America for God's sake if you don't stop talking about intimacy _right now_ I'm going to beat you with your own baseball bat."

"I would allow it, too," the woman warned. Someone huffed in annoyance and muttered something about the dumb French.

A part of me knew that if I made my consciousness known, it would probably spell big trouble. But I needed to move; I was getting really uncomfortable. I tried to curl my fingers. Nothing happened. Bending my knees proved just as futile. My lungs hurt too much to huff in frustration, but my brow furrowed just slightly.

"Oh?" The woman's voice hummed. I was suddenly very aware of many eyes on my person. There was little point in avoiding these people, but I didn't want to deal with them. I didn't want to deal with anything. My brow creased a little more as someone began to brush my forehead in light circles. I still couldn't move my head much, but I instinctively leaned toward the touch. I could sense its intention; coaxing, trying to convince me to wake up. I had to force my head to turn away as much as I was able. "Come now," the woman's voice soothed. It made me uncomfortable and conflicted. I wanted to both run away from that voice and be enveloped by it. I managed to make a sound; a slight squeak that sounded a lot deeper in my ears. My eyes were fluttering. "Poor dear," the voice cooed. "Won't you wake up for me?"

There was no stopping myself as I opened my eyes blearily. The room was a golden color and bright, too bright. Everything was a blur with no distinct shapes making themselves visible. I was lying on my back on something hard, harder than the floor in the cell. The air was frigid, and I felt like a cold wind was tracing along my skin all over. I was staring up at the ceiling, at nothing… no, there was something at the top of my vision, and it leaned closer in. Blurrily, I could make out a pale, smooth face with long silver hair and stark purple eyes.

Materna smiled sweetly at me. "You have beautiful eyes, my dear."

Someone called out quietly to me, "hey."

Materna looked away from me, apparently having heard the call as well. "America, I believe your dimension has a 'three strikes and you are out' policy. If you make anymore **inappropriate **suggestions, you will wish you had never been colonized. This is strike two. Have I made myself clear?"

What was inappropriate about saying "hey"?

Someone, America, sighed. "Yes, ma'am."

**"Good."** She turned back to me and smiled. I tried not to look at her, lowering my gaze and turning my head away. She took a gentle but firm hold of my chin and turned me to face her. "You wouldn't want to fall asleep yet, would you? Our guest is almost here."

I stared at her, not entirely comprehending what she said beyond her "guest being almost here". Who was the guest? I wasn't the guest, was I?

There was a distant *bang* of a door being slammed open, followed by sounds of pained struggle. "Just in time." Materna backed out of my vision, but didn't go far. The others—the second players, I realized—were close by as well. The muffled protests grew closer and louder, ending with an unceremonious *thump* and a grunt of pain. I blinked languidly. That grunt… it sounded wrong, but familiar. "Welcome to my humble abode," Materna said sweetly.

"Who _are_ you?!" The person who had come in snapped angerly. _That voice…!_ They took in a breath as if to continue, but there was another thumping sound and they groaned.

"Paga i tuoi rispetti, mingherlino," another voice, one I recognized as Veneziano's, snarled.

"Now, now," Materna said coolly, "don't rough him up **too** much, yet. We still need his cooperation."

"I will never cooperate with you!" The new person said defiantly.

"Kick him."

There was a slight cracking sound, and the person cried out. _I know that voice…_ The person hissed in pain, and there was a squeaky, scrapping sound of someone being dragged to their feet.

"Now then," Materna stepped a little further away from me and towards the person. "Let us get straight to business, hm?" Labored breathing was the response. "Yes, yes we shall. Where is it?"

"W…what?" The person asked.

**"Where. Is. It?"** Her voice went dark and cold.

"I don't know what you're talking about…"

There was a pause. "The journal. Where is the journal?"

"W-what do you want with it?"

"I need it to repair the damage **you** caused me. The death of my **son** will be reversed."

"Your _son?_ I don't even know who you are!"

"I suppose you may as well know. I am **Materna, **the mother of the Onis."

"…They have a mother?" There was a slapping sound and a grunt.

"My patience grows thin. Tell me where the journal is."

"I'm not afraid to die!"

"You are not, perhaps. But what of another?"

"I don't understand—"

"…Feli…" I rasped weakly. I felt all of the eyes in the room fall on me. I couldn't look away from the ceiling above me. I realized then that I wasn't wearing my glasses, hence why Materna had appeared blurry despite being within my line of sight.

"Well," Materna said after a beat, "it was supposed to be a big reveal, but… **surprise!"**

"…Author…?!" Feliciano gasped.

"Feli…" I called again, a little more loudly. My voice was so raspy it sounded inhuman, like my voice box was now a rattlesnake's rattle.

"Author!"

"Let him go to her," Materna ordered.

Stumbling steps grew closer until Feli practically fell into the side of my line of vision. I got the sense I was lying on a table of some sort, with Feli kneeling next to me on his knees. I could see his hands hovering over me, shaking as if he didn't know what to do. "Mio Dio… bella, what have they _done_ to you?"

I slowly turned my eyes to meet his. They were the same salted caramel brown color I remembered, but they were filled with such an intense fear that I had never seen before in them. I thought vaguely that being kept in a prison cell for two weeks before being tormented for at least two hours probably meant I was not looking my best and brightest. Unsure of what to say, I tried to make a noise of comfort, but ended up sounding like a cat with laryngeal paralysis on its last legs.

"That's enough," Materna said. It wasn't nearly enough, but Feli was pulled kicking and yelling from my side. Materna replaced him, though she wasn't facing me. "Now you know what is at stake. Surrender the journal to me, and I will not harm her further."

"…You said this was to reverse your son's death," Feli said slowly. "You don't mean… Steve?"

Someone snorted, but quickly shut up. "…That name…" Materna sighed irritably, "That was means to an end. The Cult of 'Steve' needed a name for humanity's replacement, and my son's **real** name doesn't translate very well. From what I've been told, the human vocal box is incapable of making the sounds needed to say his name. 'Steve' was the name given to my son by the 'fans' of your 'game', so I went with that for simplicity's sake."

"…Okay," Feli said.

"The Cult of Steve itself was a means to an end as well," Materna continued. "They thought they were summoning 'Steve', but in truth, they never had the ability to do so. It was simply a diversion I planted in their minds to fulfill my end of a bargain."

There was another pause. "You all…" Feli said in disbelief. "Your leaders! You—"

"There **is** a way to bring him back to life, though. Through the journal, through the presence of the one who last made a deal with him… and with a mother's love~."

"…Uh-huh," Feli replied.

"You doubt my mothering?"

"I doubt your reasons for doing this. We had a deal—"

"—And it was broken the moment you accepted outside help. You were to escape with all of your friends **on your own."**

"We didn't get a choice!"

"You had the chance to go back before the mansion was destroyed. By accepting the Cult of Veneziano's help in destroying it, you broke the deal. You must pay."

"Do you seriously think I'd put my friends in danger _again_ for the sake of some stupid rules?!"

"People think they can get away with anything, but the moment it comes back to bite them, they become infantile. The journal. **Now**."

"No!"

**"If you do not reveal the location of the journal right now,"** Materna hovered a hand over my head, **"there will be consequences."**

I felt where her hand was more than I could see it. I could feel the curls on my head spasming like dead tentacles shocked into motion with electricity. I made a pathetic keening sound and shook my head from left to right, meaning it barely shifted two centimeters to each side.

Feli seemed to realize what she was implying. "Don't—don't you dare—"

"**You have three of your human seconds."**

"I…" I could feel Feli's eyes on me. "…I—"

"**Time's up."** She grabbed the curl at the top of my head and yanked. I screamed, feeling as if a knife were being stabbed into my brain. My eyes burned, and it felt like hot glue was dripping from my tear ducts and down my face like mucus.

Feli was protesting, but I could barely hear him over the sound of my pain. She was pulling so hard she was lifting my head from the table. I wanted desperately to lose consciousness, but my body could not. I was forced to feel pain stack upon pain, growing hotter and hotter until it became white and blinding and searing and screaming and—

"MY BEDROOM!" Feli's voice cut through, giving me something to cling to. "Under the seventeenth floorboard from the left and third board from the top when facing away from the bed! PLEASE, STOP!"

My head smacked back down onto the table. "Search there. **Now."** Footsteps hurried away and Feli was at my side again.

I sobbed loudly, whining and quaking as much as I could. The pain was no longer increasing, but it wasn't going down, either. After a second of hesitation, Feli took my hand and patted it. "Mi dispiace, bella," he murmured in my ear.

"Fe-eli," I whimpered. "H-hurts…"

"I know, bella, I know. Ssh…"

Time passed. Too much and not enough. More sticky, gooey, hot tears pushed out of my tear ducts. My curls were jerking all the worse; seeming to be trying to pull themselves off of my head to run away to some dark corner of the world.

Faintly, I heard many footsteps grow closer. "Right where he said it was, madame," England's voice said.

There was an excited gasp, followed by the whispered words, "My darling, you're almost home…!"

Feli stood, still holding my hand. "You got what you wanted," he growled. "Now let her go."

"No." She snapped her fingers and Feli was dragged away.

"Author!" He cried.

"Feli…" I whined.

"You said you would let her go!"

"I didn't, actually," Materna said coolly. "I said I would not harm her further, and I won't. What happens to her next is not up to me, but to my son."

"What are you talking about?!"

"Another benefit of this particular resurrection spell is the fact that once my son is resurrected, he will get what he deserves most: the prize he lost." Feli made struggling sounds, but clearly wasn't getting anywhere. Materna ignored him. "And I thought to myself; wouldn't it be such a treat for him if he got to devour **the one who killed him** as well?"

"What? You mean she…"

"Correct. Of course," Materna appeared in my view. I couldn't look away. She seemed… contemplative. "That son in particular was always a bit… how do you say… turbulent. He loved to change on a whim, do the unexpected; hence his particular love for contracts and games. He may kill her… or he may leave her alive. And if the latter is the case…" She met my eyes, and I made a shuddering noise as she traced a long fingernail along the center of my neck and under my chin. "…I may keep her for myself."

"I knew it," America whispered.

"Sei disgustoso!" Feli spat.

Materna's fingernail dug into my chin and I whimpered again. "I'll be preparing the spell. No mortal injuries or irreversible damage; I want him nice and whole for my son. Other than that… have at it, gentlemen."

She turned away from the erupting chaos to examine the journal. Solid sounds of punches and kicks connecting with bone, followed by shouts of pain and yells of thrill, seemed to grow louder and louder as she read through the journal. I looked up at her in despair, and she seemed to feel my eyes on her. She looked down at me. "Why…?" Of all the questions I could have asked, I'm not sure why that was the one I chose. Why what? Why anything?

She was quiet for a moment. Then she turned her full attention to me. "Killing that son in particular has marked you with a special suffering. Right now, you are free. Soon… well. We'll just have to see, won't we?" She patted my cheek and stepped back. "Put him on the other alter," she called to her "partners".

Feli didn't do much more than groan as he was dragged off to my left, and the sound of clinking metal suggested he had been chained down. "Feli…!" I cried quietly, attempting again to struggle.

Materna tapped me lightly on the nose. "Now, now; we can't have that, my dear. Why don't you take a nice nap?" Before I could protest, she began to whisper; that familiar, horrible, haunting whisper. It wasn't the same as the whispers Naoki had used in the mansion to help me recover. His were kind and just a bit hesitant, letting _me_ make the decision of how much power it had. Materna's whispers were saccharine, taking control under the guise of empty promises. A mother knows best. _She_ knows best.

I closed my eyes and settled into the uncomfortable darkness.

* * *

TRANSLATIONS:

ragazza - Italian - girl

compagni - Italian - companions/comrades

Piacere di conoscerti - Italian - Pleased to meet you.

vieni - Italian - come/come on

ciao, bella - Italian - hello, beautiful

Che bello conoscerti! Sono Romano, Veneziano's fratello maggiore! Sei carino, lo sai? - Italian - It's nice to meet you! I'm Romano, Veneziano's older brother! You're cute, you know?

Scusi - Italian - sorry

Priyatno s Vami poznakomit'sya - Russian - It's nice to meet you

Guten Tag. Ich heisse Deutschland - German - Good day. My name is Germany/ I am called Germany

Es ist nett zu treffen Sie - German (incorrect) - It is nice to meet you.

Es ist schön, Sie kennenzulernen - German (correct) - It is nice to meet you

seltsames Mädchen - German - strange girl

IM VERGLEICH ZU IHR BIST DU EINE VERLEGENHEIT - German - compared to her, you are an embarrassment

Gott - German - God

un attimo - Italian - a moment/ wait a moment

numero cinque - Italian - number five

capillus Crispum - Latin - hair curl

Interessante - Italian - interesting

Paga i tuoi rispetti, mingherlino - Italian - Pay your respects, weakling

Mio Dio - Italian - My God

mi dispiace - Italian - I'm sorry

Sei disgustoso - Italian - You're disgusting

* * *

Reference:

The scene The Author imagines is a summary of the Carol Burnett Show skit: The Interrogator. If you decide to watch it, be prepared for a lot of fake German and exaggerated comedy.

* * *

Oof. Just... oof.

I'm very pleased with how this turned out; serious with slight bits of comedy to keep it from being _too_ upsetting. At least, I think so. You got all the way to the bottom! Congratulations!

A lot of this won't make sense unless you've read the previous books in the series, but some stuff can be inferred from dialogue, like The Author's relationships with Prussia, Naoki, and Materna (Feli, too, to an extent, given that she's one of the few people in this book to call him that nickname).

I'd love to hear your theories for the extent of the relationships The Author has, but if you want my honest opinion on what's going on with them, you can PM me and we'll talk.

I probably won't be back with the next chapter of this for a long time, maybe not even until after school starts up again in August. I've put a little thought into where I want the story to go from here, but I'm going to have to put a lot more thought into it than I have.

The flashbacks are references to previous books in the series; namely The Cult of Veneziano and The Cult of Steve. All of the moments seen there were leading up to this scene. Over five years of work has culminated into this.

Naoki and Materna's use of "programming" language is really just to simplify it to something The Author would understand. Calling Naoki a "program" simplifies him down to his functionality, not what he actually is.

Dirty needles aren't actually my biggest fear, but they're pretty high up there, given the things they imply.

What _were_ those inappropriate comments America was apparently making, you wonder? You can probably make a guess based on the previous scene with Materna and The Author.

We all know who came into the cell with Materna and The Author, but The Author won't know who they are until the end of the story. To her, that was just some random event that she didn't really pay attention to because _soft._

* * *

Okay... I think that's all the things I wanted to say. Again, HUGE thank you to The ink stained poet for Beta Reading this. It was actually their first time Beta Reading, and they did wonderfully! It was also my first time having something of my own Beta read, so kudos to us!

REMEMBER TO LOOK FOR THE POLL ON MY PROFILE ONCE YOU'VE GOTTEN TO THIS POINT! AND LEAVE A REVIEW TO TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF IT! THANK YOU ALL BYYYYYYYE!


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